


and there's always time to change your mind

by Nuanta



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Accidental Outing, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, From Sex to Love, Homophobic Language, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:05:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuanta/pseuds/Nuanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s not actually hungover. Tyler would love to pin what happens next on a pounding headache and a momentary lapse of judgement, but he’s really only got himself to blame for this whole thing, so taking the full plunge just seems natural. He’s soundly aware of what the consequences might be if he follows through with this, but he also knows that they will be way worse for Jamie if he doesn’t. </p><p>So he takes a deep breath and posts the picture to his Twitter, along with the caption, "O captain my captain, always so good to me," and waits for the resulting implosion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because there's never enough fake dating fic out there. 
> 
> Set after Tyler's first season with Dallas. I'm going to try to follow the 2014-15 season as accurately as I can, but a few things will probably get fudged here and there. 
> 
> It's gonna be posted in chapters. My goal is to alternate Jamie/Tyler POVs each chapter, but we'll see how that holds up. I have no clue how long it'll end up in terms of number of chapters or word length, though I do have a set timeline worked out. We'll see how it goes as I write it, I guess.
> 
> Rating is explicit due to eventual content. I'll also put in additional tags as more stuff gets incorporated. 
> 
> Warning for homophobic language, because unfortunately, realistically speaking there are bound to be people who will oppose it when the NHL finally has an openly gay athlete. Not at all representative of my personal views. 
> 
> Title taken from Imagine Dragons' Shots, because the lyrics have excellent foreshadowing and I'm a sucker for that stuff. (Also I've recently edited the fic to have some relevant song lyrics from Shots at the beginning of each chapter because I'm a massive dork.)

 

_from the second that I was born it seems I had a loaded gun_

~

Tyler’s summer back home after his first season with the Stars is pretty baller, if he says so himself. It’s filled with parties and hangouts and charity events and the most brutal training possible (the best kind of training, let’s be real here). Back in Dallas, he’s even set himself up in fucking Mike Modano’s mansion, his new home for hopefully years and years to come. Yeah, things are looking pretty swell.

The only hitch, if you can call it that, is the amount of time Tyler ends up spending away from Jamie. They’ve basically cemented themselves as the faces of the franchise, and even Tyler was surprised at how great their chemistry became in such a short time. On the ice, they make magic happen, and the team feeds off of their energy.

Off the ice, well, Jamie’s become something kind of like Tyler’s new best bro. It’s like what Tyler had with Marchy back in Boston, only Tyler’s never missed a teammate during the offseason before.

So when Jamie calls him up and asks if Tyler would be down to help him rally the team to all come back to Dallas early to get a head start before camp, Tyler pretty much jumps at the opportunity.

Okay, maybe you really can call Jamie’s absence a snag in Tyler’s summertime fun.

But that was then, and this is now. Now, Tyler’s back in Dallas with his best bro, and things are pretty fantastic. They’re doing more charity work together, and on top of that, they team up with Dude Perfect for two days of beauty trick shot moves. It’s pretty sick, what he and Jamie are able to pull off. Tyler literally cannot get over how Jamie scores with a fucking miniature pumpkin, faking stick side and then using his glove to pass the puck across to his stick, tapping it in while sliding on his freaking belly. How did he even come up with that? Tyler has got to try it out sometime.

The best part of it all, though, is how honest-to-god _happy_ Jamie seems. He’s always been reserved and humble after achievements at the rink, but here, Jamie’s actually celebrating. Tyler finds himself getting more excited for Jamie’s successful tricks than his own, encouraging Jamie to laugh and grin even wider.

Jamie’s laugh is fucking precious, is what it is. He tries to contain it, to keep a straight face, but then something just snaps and it explodes out of him. Tyler’s always loved trying to make Jamie laugh, but after three months of not hearing it (Skype totally doesn’t count), Tyler wants to absorb as much of Jamie’s laughter as possible. Kind of like making up for lost time, or something.

Jamie’s in such a good mood that it’s easy to convince him to accept the invitation from the guys to hang out at a house party that night. Tyler knows by now that Jamie actually does like parties; he’s just uncomfortable around so many strangers at once. (Tyler’s master plan is to gradually stomp that out. It’s a work in progress, but he has no doubt they’ll get there. Watching Jamie slowly become more social is doing wonders to Tyler’s ego.)

The party is crowded, with fun people and good music and so, so much alcohol. Tyler all but throws drinks in Jamie’s face, determined to get him drunk. Let it be known that when Tyler Seguin wants something, he will do everything in his power to get it, and tonight, he wants to see Jamie let go and get smashed.

It’s…surprisingly easy. Jamie’s guard is down already, and he willingly accepts the beers and shots Tyler offers, chatting it up and laughing with total strangers and even dancing a little to the pounding rhythms and bass. Huh. Maybe they’re further along on the make-Jamie-more-social meter than he thought.

Except then Jamie’s crowding a random guy into a corner and – okay, they’re making out.

Turn that maybe into a definitely.

Tyler knows Jamie’s into guys. It’s not a problem by any means – Tyler’s bisexual himself – but Jamie’s usually super fucking discreet about it. Tyler’s generally the same, because despite what people may say about society becoming more and more accepting, there still aren’t any openly gay players in the NHL, and Tyler’s had his fair share of media attention without the added drama of his sexuality. Jamie had been somewhat wary of Tyler when he first came to Dallas, and Tyler really couldn’t blame the guy – he was about to be named captain of an NHL team that was rebuilding and looking to end a five-year playoff drought. Jamie couldn’t afford to deal with that kind of drama.

But Tyler’s not really thinking about that at all, because he’s got a great buzz going, so he just stares, watching the way Jamie’s big hands pin the guy’s arms to the wall, the way he smothers the guy with his size and strength – Tyler has a type, okay, and Jamie definitely fits that mold, and this is pretty hot. He’s not ashamed to find his teammate attractive; there are so many hot guys in the locker rooms these days, it would be too damn hard to repress all of that.

He’s so caught up in watching that he doesn’t notice the flash of the camera.

~

The original picture is deleted from Twitter before Tyler gets a chance to see it the next morning, but it’s already too late. Tyler’s received at least a dozen screencaps of it from buddies via text, one strangely with the caption _dude is that u???_

Tyler’s stomach drops when he sees it. It’s Jamie, of course it’s Jamie, and there’s that guy he’d been making out with, and parts of the image are blurry but there is no denying that it’s a picture of Jamie kissing another man, and who knows how many people have seen it by now. Tyler opens up his Twitter feed to find _#JamieBenn_ trending. Facebook is no different. He hesitates for a moment before clicking on the name.

It’s everywhere.

Tyler’s breath catches and he feels the gnawing dread working its way up his spine. Copies of the picture have been posted so many times, there’s no way the internet will ever let it go. Tyler swallows hard and scrolls through some of the comments, and then his blood runs cold.

_wat a fuckin faggot!_

_Disgusting. There’s no place for this kind of bullshit in the NHL._

_A big fat fag as an NHL captain? They’d better fucking make him resign. Better yet, kick him off the team!_

_wtf jamie benns a homo???_

_disgrace to his team and the entire nhl_

Instantly the guilt surges through him and Tyler thinks he might be sick. Last night wasn’t Jamie. It can’t have been Jamie. It was the alcohol, no doubt about that. The alcohol Tyler gave him. Jamie’s so careful about how he goes about every little detail of his life that Tyler knows he’d never have kissed a guy at a party like that sober. Tyler’s the one who convinced Jamie to let loose, and now that could fuck over his entire career.

Fuck, Tyler’s the biggest piece of shit in the world right now.

He scrolls back through the texts he’d received. Most of them are variations of, _did you see what your captain did?_ but one of them catches his eye again.

_dude is that u???_

Tyler frowns as he stares back at the photo. Whoever the guy is, he got lucky that his features are all blurred. He’ll get to blissfully go on with his life like everything’s normal, and no one will ever know that he was the stranger getting kissed by Jamie Benn.

Although…

The guy’s build is pretty similar to his, Tyler notices. And he’s wearing a hoodie, which would hide any tattoos. The face is blurred, but it’s enough to tell that the guy is clean-shaven, like Tyler.

He’s not actually hungover. Tyler would love to pin what happens next on a pounding headache and a momentary lapse of judgement, but he’s really only got himself to blame for this whole thing, so taking the full plunge just seems natural. He’s soundly aware of what the consequences might be if he follows through with this, but he also knows that they will be way worse for Jamie if he doesn’t.

So he takes a deep breath and posts the picture to his Twitter, along with the caption, _O captain my captain, always so good to me_ , and waits for the resulting implosion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was more of a prologue than anything else, really, but there you have it. The next chapter is Jamie's POV and is pretty much done, but I'm probably gonna wait and try to write a bit more before I post it. I'm at the tail end of writing up my M.Sc. thesis so I don't have as much time to write as I'd like right now, but I'll do my best. 
> 
> If there's anything I missed in terms of ratings/warnings, please let me know, either here or come find me on tumblr (nuanta-fic.tumblr.com). Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thanks so very much for all the wonderful comments! I was completely floored to receive such a great reception like that and the comments really mean a lot to me.
> 
> This second chapter isn't as edited as I'd like, but I'm so brain dead from thesis writing that this was the best I could do. We submitted a paper for publication yesterday and my supervisor's pushing to get the thesis submitted within the next week so I've had virtually no time or energy to write, but I still wanted to get this next bit out. If there are any glaring issues, please feel free to point them out to me!
> 
> Big shoutout to sherlockelly for the wonderful feedback and for bouncing ideas with me!

 

_I keep saying that I'm looking for a way to escape_

~

This isn’t happening.

Jamie paces back and forth in front of the bed, clutching his phone with a sweaty hand, breathing hard and fast. His skin is tingling all over and his legs buckle beneath him. He lets himself flop backwards onto the bed, stares at the ceiling for a minute, chest heaving and blinking furiously, then gets right back up and paces again. He throws his phone onto the bed when he thinks it’s going to slip right out of his grip.

This is _not_ happening.

Except it kind of is, and it’s not really a kind of sort of thing. He’s just gotten off the phone with his agent, who called him immediately upon seeing Tyler’s post on Twitter, and now any wild ideas Jamie might have entertained of denying the whole thing have just been flushed away. Not to mention Jamie’s got a throbbing headache, but that’s really the least of his worries right now.

Point is, Tyler’s just made things so much worse, and now Jamie has to deal with it. And call Tyler.

Jamie would much rather sink back into the mattress and disappear forever. He’s far too tired for this.

Coffee, he thinks suddenly. It’s just at the edges of his awareness, but the idea’s there. He needs coffee. Coffee will help. Jamie latches onto that thought, desperate to focus on anything other than the hairs prickling at his nape.

He snatches his phone back up and stumbles down the stairs to the kitchen. While the coffee brews, he rests his head on his elbows on the counter, rubbing at his eyes. He’s hungover enough that everything else seems a little distant, but he also knows that his roiling gut isn’t a result of last night’s antics.

Okay, well, that’s not entirely true. If he hadn’t let his guard down, hadn’t gotten drunk, hadn’t made out with that hot guy at the party…

But he’d done all of those things, and now the proof of his sexuality is all over the internet, with no hope of saving it, because even Tyler posted about it.

There’d been so many posts. Jamie had scrolled through them a little after the first call with his agent, the call that had woken him from his alcohol-induced slumber to inform him that his picture was on Twitter, that the person who posted it realized the error in their ways and removed it, but that enough people had taken screencaps while it was up that it was still in circulation. Some of the comments had expressed support towards Jamie being gay, but others…

Jamie shudders at the thought of the insults he’d seen. Usually, he steers clear of that kind of stuff, because it never did anyone any good to read all sorts of hurtful things people said about them, but this time felt different, magnified, more important and way more terrifying than mindless comments about hockey. He hadn’t been able to help himself this time; he wishes he had.

His agent promised to take care of things with management, for now, but there was no doubt Jamie would have to deal with them later as well. Jamie drops his head and bangs it on the counter a few times, groaning loudly with each thump.

As soon as the coffee’s ready, he inhales sharply and chugs a third of the mug in one go, hissing when he burns his tongue but not caring nearly enough to stop. He drinks the rest of it a little more slowly, trying to collect his jumbled thoughts.

It takes a few minutes, but he’s able to parse through all the important bits: last night, he let his guard down, got drunk, and made out with a good-looking guy he’d started chatting with, and he hadn’t even asked for his name; someone had taken a picture of the makeout session and posted it to Twitter and then removed it, but the damage was done; now Jamie’s name is trending across social media because the world now has proof that he’s gay; to make matters worse, all possibilities of denying the photo were shot out the window by Tyler, who reposted the picture to his Twitter and made it look like he was the one Jamie was kissing.

What the fuck is Jamie supposed to do now?

There’s a reason Jamie’s sexuality has always been a well-kept secret, known only to his family and select few trusted friends. As much as the NHL has touted itself as being open to anyone, as much as it’s supported organizations like You Can Play, there still isn’t a single openly gay player in the league. Jamie’s sure there are plenty of them, even has some hunches on a couple guys, but no one wants to be the first. Jamie certainly didn’t want to be the first. He’s had enough on his plate being the captain of a rebuilding team. Now, he’s got an Olympic gold medal and playoff experience under his belt, and he’s cementing himself as one of the best forwards in the game – there’s just no way he could possibly risk losing all that.

Now, he’s got no choice. Now, his head is pounding and he can’t feel his tongue and his future is one giant mass of unknowns.

Jamie takes a deep breath and tries to still the rising panic in his chest. He has to call Tyler. That’s the next step. Call Tyler, then call his agent back. One thing at a time. They’ll figure this shit out.

Tyler picks up on the first ring, thank fuck. “Hey, Jamie,” he says, a little breathless.

It sounds like he’s about to say more, but Jamie quickly cuts him off. “What were you thinking?” he hisses.

Tyler’s voice shrinks instantly. “I just –”

“What the fuck are we supposed to do with this?” Jamie demands. He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, doesn’t mean to be this angry, but he is, and ugh, he just wants to bury his face in a pillow and scream but he can’t because he has to talk to Tyler.

Tyler stammers, “I dunno, I mean, we’ll just, we’ll pretend we’re dating, we’ll come out together, that way you don’t have to be the first?”

There’s a small part of Jamie that _almost_ finds that cute. Most of him just can’t believe that Tyler didn’t think this through at all. Jamie knows that Tyler’s bi – they’ve confided enough in each other to know their sexualities – and he knows that Tyler’s also pretty discreet about hooking up with guys, just like Jamie is. It had been an interesting surprise the first time Tyler had asked Jamie to cover for him so that he could take a guy home. It was the first sign that Tyler really trusted him, and Jamie had learned enough about Tyler from their short time playing together to know that this was a big deal. Eventually, Jamie started returning the favor by trusting Tyler to keep his secret as well. It had been nice, honestly, to have someone other than Jordie in his corner.

“Do you have any idea what that’ll mean?” Jamie asks. Of course Tyler doesn’t, or none of this would have happened, so he continues without even waiting for a response. “My agent’s going crazy now because of this, and we’ll have to deal with management, and the media, and homophobes are gonna hate on you wherever you go, and I thought you were fucking done with the media attention.” He nearly spits out those last words.

“I’ve dealt with worse,” Tyler says, and Jamie can’t believe he’s being this stubborn, can’t believe that he _doesn’t fucking get it_. “I’m fucking in this now, okay?”

“But you didn’t have to be!” Jamie yells. “I didn’t have to be either! I don’t know what crazy fucking idea made you decide to stick us in a corner with our backs to the wall like this, but it’s fucking stupid and bullshit and completely unnecessary –”

“Dude, I’m trying to help you out here!” Tyler exclaims, sounding disbelieving and scared and hurt and incredulous and angry all at once and Jamie has no clue what he’s even getting at right now.

“Help?” Jamie repeats, and he wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all but he thinks he might lose his mind for real if he does. “You’ve just gone and made it a fucking million times worse! You had no reason to fucking out yourself like that, and I could’ve denied the whole thing, made it sound like it was a photoshop job or it wasn’t me or something.”

“Wait, what?” Tyler’s tone is genuinely confused now.

“I had an out!” Jamie seethes, and he’s shaking all over from fury and dread and terror of the unknown and he can’t believe how much he wishes he could hate Tyler right now. “I had an out, I could’ve denied the whole fucking thing and it would’ve blown over eventually and things would’ve gone back to fucking normal and you wouldn’t have had to deal with a single thing and now you’ve gone and fucked up both our lives!”

There’s silence on the other end of the line, interrupted only by the sound of Jamie’s heavy breathing, of his pulse hammering in his ears.

When Tyler finally speaks again, his voice is smaller than Jamie’s ever heard it before. “I…fuck. I didn’t think of that.”

“No shit, you didn’t,” Jamie snaps. He’s about to say more, but he stops himself, chewing on his lower lip hard enough to hurt. There are too many ugly thoughts in his head right now, about how Tyler’s always so fucking impulsive, never thinks before he acts, how Jamie could’ve been fine without Tyler’s needless meddling, but he holds back.

It’s not all true, is the thing. Tyler seems spontaneous and brash, but he cares about the important things, doesn’t just nosedive into them without some sort of preparation or reason. Jamie has to remind himself that Tyler meant well by doing this, even if it backfired spectacularly.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler mutters. “I was just trying to help.”

Jamie lets out a full body sigh, and the anger leaves him in one heavy exhale. Now, he’s just tired, wishes he could go to sleep and wake up and none of this would have ever happened. “It’s just, I don’t understand why you felt the need to involve yourself in my own fuckup,” he admits quietly.

“I’m the one who got you drunk last night,” Tyler says. “You’d never have done something like that if you weren’t drunk, I know you wouldn’t, so. It was my fault.”

And that’s…oh.

“I wanted to get drunk, though,” Jamie replies. “I wouldn’t have let you feed me all those drinks if I didn’t.” Jamie’s fully aware of Tyler’s schemes to make him more sociable, and he’s developed some countermeasures for when he’s not in the mood. But last night…Jamie’d let his guard down because he wanted it, wanted Tyler to get him drunk. Tyler blaming Jamie’s drunkenness on himself is something Jamie never would have expected. Suddenly, Tyler’s actions make a lot more sense, even if Jamie wishes they’d never happened.

“I should’ve been more careful,” Jamie finishes. “Even if I got drunk, I should’ve known better.” No matter what Tyler’s thinking right now, this much is true, and Jamie knows it. Jamie could’ve stopped himself at any time, and he didn’t, and he paid the price by making out with a stranger and having his picture taken and blown up across the internet. That’s no one’s fault but his own.

“Still,” Tyler argues, “you don’t deserve to have to go through any of this. I – I’m sorry.”

And that’s…honestly a little sweet. He can’t bring himself to be mad at Tyler anymore.

“Okay,” Jamie says slowly. “So where does this leave us?”

Tyler gives a wry chuckle. “With our backs against the wall, I guess.” There’s a pause, and he adds, “Well, mine is, anyways,” like it’s some dumb tentative punchline to a joke he wishes he didn’t have to make.

Jamie thinks back to Tyler’s Twitter caption, _O captain, my captain, always so good to me_ , and sighs. “So we’ve been caught making out.”

“We can try to pass it off as being really drunk?” Tyler suggests, but his tone indicates that even he knows that idea’s bullshit.

“Nope,” Jamie says firmly. “You posted that this morning; you wouldn’t still be drunk.”

“Yeah, no,” Tyler says, and takes a deep breath. “So we have to pretend we’re dating, and we come out together. This way, you’re not the first, cause we both are, together, so you don’t have to deal with this alone.”

It’s almost charming, the way Tyler’s standing up for Jamie, and Jamie would feel really good about that were the entire situation not so damn distressing. They’re gonna have to pay the price for this fuckup, and there’s no telling just how high it might be.

“And you’re not gonna lose the C,” Tyler adds, like he pulled it straight from Jamie’s mind. “And management won’t turn around and trade me over something like this. You know how bad that’d look to the rest of the league.”

Jamie has to laugh at that. “We live in Texas, Ty. It’s not exactly the most gay-friendly place. We’d have a better chance in, like, Vancouver.”

“It’ll be fine,” Tyler insists. “You know the guys’ll be cool with it.”

“The fans will have a field day,” Jamie says drily.

He can just imagine Tyler shrugging on his end of the line. “Whatever. As long as we play good hockey again this season, they’ll get over it.”

Jamie sighs. “I don’t want the team to lose support because of me.”

“Because of _us_ ,” Tyler corrects. “It doesn’t have to be all on you all the time, okay?”

If he wasn’t feeling so uncertain of his future, Jamie would appreciate Tyler so much right now. He kind of wants to give him a hug. Mostly just wants to crawl back into bed, though the caffeine is finally kicking in.

“People are gonna say some really nasty things,” Jamie warns. “Heck, they already know.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees nonchalantly. “I’ve heard way worse. They can’t say anything that’ll rattle me.” He pauses for a moment, during which time Jamie thinks about all the flak Tyler’d received during his final days in Boston. That had probably hurt more than strangers calling him a faggot, because Tyler loved hockey more than anything and was driven by success in his career. “Are you gonna be okay, though?”

Jamie remembers the comments on Twitter and sucks in a breath. “Yeah,” he says after a beat. “I can ignore the social media stuff. I’m not a Twitter whore like you.”

Tyler laughs big and loud, and Jamie weirdly feels a little relieved. “True,” he agrees. “So that’s all settled. What now?”

Jamie rolls his eyes. Of course Tyler wouldn’t have thought ahead past this. “Well, I have to call my agent back and tell him that we’re going to pretend to be dating, and that we’ll come out together. You’ll probably have to talk to yours. We’ll have to talk to management. They’ll probably want to do an official press conference to dispel all the rumors that are gonna crop up. We’re gonna have to answer questions. We’ll probably need to come up with a story, like, of how we got together and who knows and how we kept it secret and what made us decide to go public, that kind of thing.”

“You always think of everything,” Tyler says admiringly. “Dude, this is gonna be great.”

Jamie bites back on the sarcasm boiling back up again, wincing when his tongue brushes up against his palette. “Yeah,” he says flatly. “Real great.”

“Just think about it, though,” Tyler insists. “The Dallas Stars’ one-two punch is actually in a relationship. Think of all the coming together stories they’ll write about us. It’ll be like all that sappy shit you see in the movies, it’ll be hilarious.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” Jamie says.

Tyler tries again, and this time his tone is sombre. “Okay, look, I know you’d rather not deal with this and I’m sorry I was stupid about it, but let me deal with the media, okay? You’ve got enough on your plate as captain. You’ve got to lead us to another playoff run this year.” It sounds like he’s grinning.

Jamie finds himself smiling as well. “I thought you just said we’re the Stars’ one-two punch. You’re gonna be right up there with me.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got the C and I don’t have shit on my jersey,” Tyler reasons. “Look, it doesn’t even have to be permanent. We’ll pretend we’re dating until all the media stuff dies down, and once you’re feeling all right about everything, we’ll call it off and things’ll go back to normal, no harm done.”

It’s a lot more reasonable than Jamie was expecting from Tyler, if he’s being honest here, but it’s nice. Or something very close to it.

“Okay,” he says. “We’ll do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned before, I'm at the last-minute crunch for my thesis. I managed to go over this chapter briefly and post it while I'm waiting for my supervisor to get back to me with the final revisions, but this'll be it until I've submitted. Once that's all over with though (hopefully by this time next week), I'll have a lot more time to write again!
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated! I love to hear what people think :)
> 
> New fic blog: nuanta-fic.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took so long! I officially submitted my thesis last Monday and then pretty much crashed hardcore, and didn't start writing again right away, and this chapter was a bit of a pain to get through. Things should be much smoother from here on out, though!
> 
> Big thanks to Em for squealing over this one but still being honest and giving me a wonderful suggestion.

 

_am I out of touch? am I out of my place?_

~

Tyler wakes up the next morning sick as a dog, because of fucking course he does. Of fucking course he gets sick right when all the shit is hitting the fan and splattering everything he knows with the evidence of his latest monumental fuckup. That’s always how it is for Tyler, and even with all the leaps forward from last season, there was nothing to prevent him from falling right back.

He buries his face in the pillow and groans loudly, cringing when even making the slightest sound is like a knife in his throat. He’s got a pounding headache and his limbs are aching all over, and worst of all Jamie’s mad at him.

Well. Jamie _was_ mad at him, anyways. Tyler’s cautiously optimistic enough to believe that the anger’s run its course, and that Jamie’s more accepting of what happened now. Even though Jamie had sounded placated at the end of their first phone call yesterday, Tyler wasn’t sure that he was. Jamie’s voice had been dripping with bitterness and disappointment and exasperation and everything Tyler never wants to hear his captain and best bro directing at him.

It’s just an extra reminder of how much he fucked up. As if Tyler couldn’t already tell after Jamie had screamed about him about all the ways Tyler had neglected to think.

But it’s Jamie; of fucking course Jamie would have thought of all sorts of ways out that Tyler wouldn’t have. Jamie stays calm when things go wrong; Jamie thinks things through and finds logical solutions. Jamie yells at Tyler over the phone when he gets in the way of that, apparently. Tyler can’t deny it was warranted.

By the end of the day, Jamie had just sounded profoundly tired, which, yeah. They’d hung up on each other to call their respective agents, then waited around while their agents called each other and management, and lastly there was an impromptu conference call to sort everything out that ended with the agreement to hold an official coming out press conference in two days’ time.

It was better than anticipated, all things considered. And management had assured Tyler that they were on his side, that this wasn’t going to spell the end of his time in Dallas just because he’s supposedly gay for his captain. So that was one Jamie fear that’d been proven wrong, at least, and normally Tyler would’ve chirped Jamie for it, but maybe he’d been a little drained as well.

What management did warn them, though, was that they expected Jamie and Tyler to carry out their work in a professional manner and to keep their relationship out of the workplace – especially if things went wrong. Tyler could practically see Jamie nodding fervently on the other line when he swore that they wouldn’t let this come close to affecting the team dynamic, and that he’d take all responsibility as captain to ensure it.

On one hand, it was nice to hear Jamie talk like that. On the other, the idiot was still putting the world on his shoulders, unwilling to share the load with Tyler. They were gonna have to have another talk about that.

Anyways, the whole thing was taxing and stressful and Tyler’s phone hadn’t stopped blowing up all day and now it’s a new day and Tyler’s phone is still going haywire and big motherfucking cherry on top, he’s ill. Ugh.

After a series of insistent phone buzzing that Tyler ignores by faceplanting into the pillow, the ringer goes off. He groans and picks up without even bothering to check who’s calling, pressing the button for speakerphone and leaving the cell on the nightstand so he doesn’t have to adjust his position.

“Yeah?” His voice comes out hoarse and raspy and _ow, fuck_ that does not sound good.

“Uh, Tyler? Did I wake you up?”

It’s Jamie. Tyler’s honestly grateful that it’s Jamie and not his agent or someone from management or worse, his mom. That had been an interesting phone call yesterday. And by interesting, Tyler means to say it sucked balls, because despite his mom’s support her tone was laced with skepticism and he’d had to endure a lecture and a half about keeping it professional.

Tyler clears his throat. “Nah, man, what’s up?” And then he breaks into a coughing fit.

Jamie, like the absolute gentleman he is, waits patiently for Tyler to finish hacking up a lung before he asks, “Are you okay? That doesn’t sound good.”

“I’m sick,” Tyler responds petulantly, hemming noisily when he thinks his voice might abandon him and die. “It fucking sucks.”

“Ouch. Sorry, man.” Jamie sounds legitimately apologetic, and Tyler wishes his throat didn’t feel like it was getting stabbed repeatedly so he could laugh. “I, uh, guess that means you’re not on for lunch.”

Oh. Right. They’d decided to do lunch so they could discuss terms and shit ahead of the big presser tomorrow. Tyler ruefully mashes his head against the pillow a few times, because he really wanted to see Jamie, to look him in the eye and gauge his reactions face-to-face to know that his favorite person isn’t actually going to hate him forever for all this. Heck, he still wants that now, on top of wishing this stupid cold would go away and that someone could come take care of him.

Which…hmm.

“Come over instead?” he rasps.

Jamie chuckles. “What, so I can bring you soup and give you blankets when you get cold so you can just stay in bed all day?”

Damn that fucker for knowing Tyler so well.

“No, so we can still talk,” he half-lies. He pauses, contemplates. “But if you wanna play caretaker for a bit I could be down with that.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Jamie laughs, and Tyler can’t help but smile. “Do you still have those cans of chicken noodle soup in the pantry?”

“I think so?”

Jamie sighs. “Okay, I’ll bring extra, just in case.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Tyler says, because Jamie should know, and Jamie deserves to be told this a million times over.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be over in 20.”

“Kay.”

True to his word, Jamie shows up in no time at all and lets himself in with the spare key Tyler’d given him, hollers that he’s here and will be up soon, and knocks on Tyler’s bedroom door a few minutes later with a mug of hot tea in one hand and an armful of thick blankets in the other.

“You’re amazing,” Tyler tells him as he accepts the cup and takes a sip, then grimaces because he hadn’t been expecting his throat to be overwhelmed by ginger.

Jamie gives him a once-over. “Wow, you really do look like shit,” he says lightly, but his brow is pinched slightly at the middle, the way it gives him that perpetually concerned look.

Tyler brushes that off with a lazy flick of his hand, then lets it fall back gracelessly onto the bedding. He realizes that Jamie is still holding blankets and brings his arm back up to make grabby hands. “Gimme.”

Jamie rolls his eyes but lays the blankets across the bed with what appears to be a fond smile anyways. “Drink that while I go make you some soup,” he says. “That’ll help clear your throat a bit, and then we’ll talk.”

Tyler nods, warm and soothed. Jamie looks him over one last time and, ostensibly satisfied, leaves the room.

Tyler obediently drinks his tea while he waits, the tantalizing smell of chicken noodle soup wafting upstairs from the kitchen. His brain’s still fuzzy, but his throat feels better. Jamie’s not back by the time his cup is empty, so he deposits in on the nightstand and burrows deeper under the blankets, smiling to himself. This is totally shit couples do for each other in relationships, and Tyler is so on board with it. He wonders if Jamie’s doing this caretaking thing because he feels obligated, or because he actually wants to. He wonders how much shameless flirting he’ll be able to get away with, and giggles to himself when his answer is _all of it_. He wonders if Jamie will reciprocate, maybe. He wonders if Jamie will…

He blinks what seems like a minute later, and finds Jamie seated in the corner, swiping at his phone. There’s a tray with a bowl that’s faintly steaming resting on the nightstand. He breathes in deeply, and fills his lungs with soupy goodness. Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff.

Jamie looks up, taking notice. “That wasn’t a very long nap,” he remarks.

Tyler shrugs and attempts to prop himself up with pillows into a sitting position while Jamie watches him from the chair. “You should probably eat that while it’s still hot,” Jamie observes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tyler grumbles, shifting until he’s comfortable, then making a face when he can’t properly reach the tray. Eventually he gets the tray onto his lap and all but inhales the soup, which – so, so good.

Jamie lets him eat in silence for a few minutes before he finally speaks: “So, you still good to talk?” he asks, and his voice is quieter, serious now.

Tyler nods. It was only a matter of time until Jamie brought this up. Tyler can count the new creases on Jamie’s forehead, can see the way his eyes are sunken, like he hasn’t been sleeping, and he feels a pang of guilt beneath his ribs.

Jamie sucks in a breath. “We have to – we should probably figure out what we want to tell the media tomorrow. I mean, uh, you’ll be okay for the presser, right?”

Tyler snorts. “You know me, I don’t stay sick for long,” he says. “We’re doing this.”

Jamie’s shoulders, if it’s possible, tense up even more than they already were. He looks…crestfallen. Like he wishes there was a way out. Something sinks miserably in Tyler’s gut at the thought, and it’s got nothing to do with him being sick.

“Okay,” Jamie says on an exhale. “So we need to tell the media how things are between us.”

“Okay?” Tyler frowns. He thought they’d established this over the phone yesterday. “We’re gonna tell them we’re dating, insert comments about professionalism at the rink and not disrupting team dynamic here, yadda yadda.” He swallows a cough back.

Jamie looks him square in the eye this time, though his face is beet red. “No, I meant – how we got together. We need a story.”

And – oh. This is so in Tyler’s alleyway. He can’t contain the grin spreading across his face. “Dude, we can make it this super cheesy romantic shpeal,” he says, the exhaustion that had been dragging him down all day fleeing instantaneously. “We can tell them we liked each other from day one, but we never did anything about it until you went to Sochi and I realized how much I missed you for two weeks, and so then when you got back we –”

Jamie cuts him off with a loud groan. “You can _not_ be serious right now,” he mutters, rubbing his face with a massive hand. Tyler watches his long fingers trail down his cheek. “That is the corniest thing I’ve ever heard, we are not fucking turning this into some sappy love story bullshit.”

“Oh, come on!” Tyler protests. “Media loves that kind of stuff. They eat that shit up. It’d be so great.”

“It’ll be fucking terrible,” Jamie counters. “As if we need the extra attention.”

“You won’t even have to do anything!” Tyler argues. “You’ll get to say you were oblivious to how much I wanted you and I’ll go on and on about how gone I was over you and how much I missed you while you were doing your thing being a Team Canada badass.” He makes his widest puppy dog eyes – anything to convince Jamie that this is brilliant.

“No,” says Jamie, and his voice has a note of finality to it.

Tyler feels his face fall immediately. He doesn’t understand what Jamie could possibly have against such a great idea. It’s simple and it’s perfect – what’s there not to like?

“So you think you’ve got a better plan, or what?” Tyler asks.

“Yeah, I do,” Jamie responds promptly, staring Tyler down, expression fierce the way he gets when he sees a challenger on the ice and refuses to back down. “Answer me this first: when was the last time you hooked up?”

And that – that was not at all what Tyler’d anticipated. “Excuse me?”

Jamie sighs. “I’m not trying to pry into your personal life here, Segs, but we can’t say we were dating while you were still going around hooking up.”

Oh. That does make a lot more sense than Tyler is willing to admit. On the other hand, though, for once he kind of appreciates that Jamie thinks too much.

“I mean, I hooked up loads over the summer, obviously,” he says. “Mostly with girls, but.” There had been one guy. He’d been bigger than Tyler, stronger too, which was difficult to find what with all the muscle Tyler’d built up over the course of his career. Now that he’s thinking about it, it’s all too easy to imagine Jamie in that guy’s place, to imagine him holding Tyler down and –

“That won’t work, then,” Jamie huffs, brow wrinkling and eyes going distant the way they do when he’s thinking hard about something.

“Share with the class.” Tyler resists adding, _so I can help you figure this out_ , because he knows exactly what Jamie will say to that.

Jamie’s silent for a moment longer before he finally focuses on Tyler once more. “Okay,” he says. “I don’t want to say this thing is entirely new because that’ll probably get us into even more trouble than we’re in now, the whole extra struggles of navigating a new relationship or whatever bullshit they come up with. But we can’t have been exclusive until recently. So, we can say we were casual for a while last season and then once we got back after the summer we decided to go full on.”

Tyler throws Jamie the smarmiest grin he can muster. “Casual since the Olympics cause I missed you so much, right?”

“Oh my god, Tyler, do _not_.”

“At least I’m giving you a good timeline here,” Tyler pouts.

Jamie considers this, so, potential small victory for Tyler. “Yeah, okay, we can say it started after the Olympics,” he says, and Tyler mentally fist pumps. “That’s probably a long enough time that there won’t be too many suspicions about us being able to go steady.”

Tyler really doesn’t think it’ll be as big a deal as Jamie’s making it out to be, but he can’t bring himself to point that out. “So we’re good?”

Jamie’s face turns unreadable. “Um, there was one more thing,” he says, drawing out his words. “You…were you planning on telling anyone?”

“No way,” Tyler says instantly, shaking his head firmly and wincing when the throbbing starts up again. “I’m not gonna do anything that risks screwing things up and making them worse. This is our little secret.” He mimes locking his lips with a key.

For some reason, that makes Jamie’s features droop. “Oh. Yeah.”

Tyler frowns. “What’s up?”

Jamie opens his mouth and closes it again. Tyler leans back into the pillows, waiting. When Jamie finds his words again, he says, “I kind of wanted to tell Jordie.”

“Dude,” Tyler gasps, affronted. “Your brother’s gonna hate me.”

“I know,” Jamie sighs dejectedly. “I mean, he’s my brother and I tell him everything, but. I won’t tell him the truth if you don’t want me to. It’s not fair to you.”

“Yeah, I’d rather you didn’t,” Tyler says. He feels selfish saying it, but Jordie’s pretty awesome, and it’d suck to fuck up that friendship on top of making things weird with Jamie.

Tyler slurps down the last of his soup, which has cooled some, while Jamie fiddles with his phone some more. When Tyler places the tray back on the nightstand, Jamie comes over to take it from him.

“We’re gonna be okay, right?”

Tyler looks up, startled. Jamie’s eyes are huge and brown and round, and shit, Tyler never wants to see Jamie this uncertain and scared.

“Yeah,” he says firmly, meeting Jamie’s eyes with the most determined face he’s got. “Everything’s gonna be fine. You’ll see.”

Jamie gives him a small, sad smile before he ambles out to bring the tray back to the kitchen, and Tyler can’t help but feel he’s letting Jamie down somehow.

~

The press conference goes just about how Tyler predicted. He and Jamie had each been given prepared speeches to read off a paper, and Jim and Lindy each had paragraphs of their own as well. The media questions were marginally on this side of invasive, but Tyler didn’t care.

Jamie clearly did, and Tyler couldn’t help but extend a hand under the table and pat Jamie’s thigh reassuringly a couple of times. Jamie’d jumped at the initial touch, but as Tyler ploughed through answering questions, he’d visibly relaxed.

“I think it’s very important for younger athletes to see representation in the pros,” he says to a reporter asking about You Can Play after who knows how many other questions. Sure enough, they’d contacted both Tyler and Jamie last night. “Jamie and I are the firsts, now, in the NHL, and it’s up to us to set a good example, to show that as long as you work hard and have a good attitude, nothing can stop you from achieving your dreams.”

“Obviously being the firsts, this is going to put added pressure on you and your team,” another reporter says. “How are you going to approach this challenge?”

“I’m not looking at it that way,” Tyler replies smoothly, catching Jamie’s eye very briefly before returning his attention to the audience. “The way I see it, we have a job to do this season. We made playoffs for the first time in six years last season and now we have to build off that. Like I just said, our sexualities or relationship status have nothing to do with hockey, it’s all about putting in the work on and off the ice, and that’s what I’m focusing on: making playoffs again and going even further than last year. You guys have your jobs to do, and we have ours.”

There are a few more questions, and then: “Jamie, how is this going to affect your captaincy?”

Tyler watches Jamie’s throat work when he swallows, notices the bead of sweat by his temple, the way Jamie looks over the heads of the crowd when he speaks, gaze unfocused. “It doesn’t,” he says, and his voice is stilted and heavy and tired. “Like Tyler said, we come to the rink every day with a job to do, and this doesn’t change that. I’m still going to try to lead by example, and, uh, set a good example for everyone watching.”

All at once, Tyler’s heart swells with pride and it’s dizzying. He squeezes Jamie’s thigh where no one can see, the only way he can think of to convey that right now. Jamie’s muscles twitch beneath his fingers, but he feels something loosen in them as well, and he hopes it means Jamie understands.

With the official press release comes an outpouring of support – from the team, from other players around the league, and from the fans as well. They’re trending on Twitter again, but Tyler determinedly avoids social media except to retweet the Dallas Stars’ link to the press release and the article You Can Play produces, because if he’s going to accept the image of a model gay athlete, advocating the subject is the least he can do.

Any doubts Jamie might’ve entertained about the team’s respect for him and his captaincy are vanquished fairly quickly at the preseason meet and greet. There are fist bumps and bro hugs and good-natured chirps that obviously indicate no lingering grudges. The Russians naturally refrain from broaching the topic, but Tyler waves that off as a culture thing. He chats animatedly with Val a bit (damn, his English has really improved) before being ushered off to his spot next to Jamie. A PR rep instructs them to autograph one pre-distributed card per person, no exceptions, and then it’s time to meet the fans.

The day passes by in a blur of social activity, and the event’s nearly over when a teenaged boy in a #14 jersey steps up to their booth. He’s gangly and fidgety, but he manages to squeak out in a voice so soft Tyler has to strain his ears to listen, “Thanks for being so brave. It means a lot to me.”

Tyler gives the kid the warmest smile he can. There’d been nothing like this so far, though he’d definitely heard murmurs about homos from somewhere in the line for Spezza and Hemsky. Judging by the way Jamie’s been so stiff all afternoon, he’d heard them as well. “I’m glad,” Tyler says, and he is; his stomach has got the damn flutters from this sweet little gesture. “Don’t ever be afraid to be yourself. Be proud, eh?”

The kid nods, the corners of his lips twitching upwards, and Tyler beams at him. As they pass him the requisite autographed cards, Tyler spares a glance in Jamie’s direction. Jamie looks lost staring at the kid, and Tyler feels the urge to discreetly kick him, to snap him out of it.

He doesn’t need to. The boy’s about to walk away when Jamie says, “Hey, uh, I’ll sign your jersey special, if you want?”

The kid’s resulting grin is blinding. Tyler’s cheeks hurt.

When Jamie’s driving them back home at the end of the day, his grip on the steering wheel is slack. They ride in peaceful silence, because Tyler doesn’t want to say anything that’ll accidentally ruin this.

Once they pull up in Tyler’s driveway, though, Tyler hesitates before he exits the car. “That was good today, yeah?” he says.

Jamie nods, even smiles a bit, though it doesn’t reach his ever-worried eyes. “That kid was…nice,” he agrees slowly.

“Told you, it’s all gonna be fine,” Tyler says. He means everything: the media, their friendship, their team.

He can tell Jamie still doesn’t quite believe him, but Tyler doesn’t mind. It’s just one more person Tyler has to prove wrong this season, and he knows precisely how to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this one was pretty slow, I know, but I've officially finished with all the setup I wanted to get through. Next chapter, the season starts and the pace will pick up. Thanks for sticking with me, and thanks so much to everyone for being so understanding and giving their support during the final stages of my thesis submission!
> 
> Finally, thanks so much for all the kudos and comments so far. Your feedback gives me life, truly. And if you don't feel comfortable posting here, you can always message me privately on my tumblr! New fic blog: nuanta-fic.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Free time is amazing. I managed to pump this out and edit it in under two days, plus it's even longer than the last one. (They keep getting longer...) The good news is a lot more time passes in this chapter and the story's finally moving along.
> 
> Quick disclaimers for this one: 1) Everyone has a roommate on the road, because it makes things more interesting this way. Naturally, Jamie and Tyler room together. 2) While I am sticking to the season schedule as closely as possible, I fudged the timing of the ESPN interview for fluidity purposes. 3) I do not know a single thing about Martin Hanzal other than he and Jamie fight at the start of the game on November 11th 2014, so I have no reason to actually think he's as much of an asshole as I've written him. Seriously, though, if you haven't seen it, look up the fight card at http://www.hockeyfights.com/fights/125501 This was honestly the most perfect gift material I could have ever been given for this fic.
> 
> EDIT: Of course I'd notice a typo a day later... If there are any other mistakes, by all means, please feel free to point them out!

 

_am I out of luck? am I waiting to break?_

~

Training camp and the preseason exceed Jamie’s expectations by miles. The guys are in high spirits, and they’ve stacked their offense quite nicely. Jamie’s already itching to get to work for real and make playoffs for the second year in a row.

He’s also itching to get into the playoffs to give everyone something more important to focus on. If anyone in the organization was against the idea of Jamie and Tyler dating, there’d been no negative comments, at least not within earshot. In fact, a lot of the guys rib them good-naturedly for it in the locker rooms, quipping about PDA and god knows what else.

“Hey Chubbs, you gonna blow Segs for that hatty tonight?” Dills calls across the room after their exhibition win against Florida.

Jamie’s cheeks immediately heat up, and he ducks his head in his stall and fumbles with his laces.

“Course he is,” Tyler answers, stretching past Spezza to slap Jamie’s thigh a few times. “He always treats me right,” he adds, sounding incredibly smug.

The boys holler. Jamie refuses to look at him.

It’s minor things like that, where someone will make a lewd wisecrack and Jamie goes red and Tyler joins in as effortlessly as it is for him to pick corners from his favorite spot on the ice. It’s all in good fun, yet Jamie can’t help the pang of unease that trickles down his spine every single time.

He’s lucky Tyler’s so adept at this, he supposes. He’s lucky the guys are learning to brush it off as Jamie not being one for PDA, and not that Jamie hates everything about this.

Okay, maybe hate is a strong word.

Thing is, he’s downright miserable about this state of affairs. His and Tyler’s “relationship” is all the media wants to ask him about, these days, and Jamie doesn’t know how to deflect the topic back to hockey, like he’s dying to do. Tyler, on the other hand, goes with it easily, flashing a charismatic grin and twinkling eyes at reporters and wagging his eyebrows outrageously when he makes a joke.

It’s just not fair.

Tyler picks up on it, because of course he does, because when has anyone ever _not_ noticed that Jamie struggles with the media. He mentions it when they’re out for lunch together the day before their season opener.

“You don’t have to tell them anything about us, eh,” Tyler says casually as he twiddles a French fry between his fingers. He pops it into his mouth with a knowing smile. “I already told you to leave all that stuff to me.”

Jamie sighs heavily. “We’re supposed to be hockey players first, not lovers,” he explains, cringing at how that last word comes out laced with distaste.

Tyler shrugs. “The media loves a good story,” he says simply. “They’ll do their thing, we’ll do ours. Really,” he adds when Jamie wrinkles his nose. “Just relax. We’re gonna kick ass this season, and then no one’s gonna care about our little lunch dates.”

It’s a callback to the discussion they’d had just days ago. Jamie had confessed to wanting to put an end to their regular lunch outings, so that people wouldn’t have as much material of them together to make a big deal over. Tyler had squashed that flat.

“Dude, that’s so dumb,” he’d said derisively. “We always do lunches together, everyone and their mom knows that. Stopping is what’d make that weird.” Point taken. The last thing they needed was people questioning the true status of their “relationship”.

“I still don’t like it,” Jamie mumbles over a too-big bite of steak. Tyler kicks him under the table. “Hey!”

“Stop thinking about it. Really,” he says pointedly. “Home-opener tomorrow, yeah? Focus on that instead. Set me up for a hatty.”

Jamie relaxes at Tyler’s dumb grin. “Pfft, you just got one. How about you set me up for one instead?”

They don’t talk about anything other than hockey for the rest of the meal.

~

Jamie’s in the hallway, doing his captainly thing of giving all the guys a stick tap on the shins as they march down the aisle to hit the ice, and he’s never been so stressed in his entire life.

He can’t even really discern why, is the problem. It’s their home-opener, their first game of the season, and he’s been raring to get this show on the road ever since the Ducks had eliminated them back in April. High-pressure situations fuel him; he thrives off them, lives for the challenge to be even better than before, better than people credit him for. So why is he sweating like he's run a marathon?

Tyler advances for their customary chest bump, but this time he also rubs a glove in Jamie’s face. Jamie squirms away from him, and Tyler beams at him before continuing on.

Once everyone’s made it through, Jamie steps onto the rink amidst a sea of green, and for a moment, the familiar roar of the crowd soothes him. They’re still here, and they still support the team. He refuses to let that faith be misplaced.

Anchored by the fans, Jamie settles into game mode, and from there it’s just another hockey game.

They end up losing in shootouts, which isn’t quite the result Jamie would’ve liked but the fans seem thoroughly entertained nonetheless. Even so, neither Jamie nor Tyler gets on the board, and that leaves him with a sinking feeling in his gut.

Their second game in Nashville is worse, and it’s not even close, and then they’re on a flight to Columbus.

Tyler wordlessly comes over to sit next to Jamie on the plane. Jamie would’ve preferred some alone time to mourn the loss in his head, but he doesn’t want the team to harbor notions of a “lovers’ spat” if he sends him away.

“Chill, it’s only two games,” Tyler says softly once they’ve taken off and the rest of the guys are too preoccupied to tune in, nudging Jamie gently in the ribs with his elbow.

“Two games, two losses,” Jamie mutters darkly, gazing down as he wrings his hands in his lap. “No points for us, and we’re supposed to be leaders.”

“Yeah, we are,” Tyler agrees nonchalantly, “which is why I’m challenging you to act more like one.”

Jamie jerks his head up. Tyler’s chin is angled proudly, and he stares defiantly back at Jamie.

“Dude, the fuck?”

“If you’re supposed to be a leader, then prove it to me next game,” Tyler says, carefully enunciating like he needs to make sure Jamie hears him properly. “Score a goal. Get some points. Fucking do something big.”

“Are you for –” Jamie’s overcome with the urge to hit something, but he stamps it down, glaring at Tyler. “Big words coming from you,” he seethes. “You’ve got no fucking right. If you think you’re so high and mighty, you’d better fucking do the same.”

Tyler smirks at him. “Done deal,” he says. Then he gets up and goes to find a new seat.

Jamie blinks after him, unsure of how to process what just happened. His thoughts are interrupted, however, when he hears Tyler say rather loudly, “Hey Jordie, your brother’s a little mopey over the game, think I should kiss it better?” and the guys hoot while Jordie makes gagging noises.

“Gross, Segs, that’s my baby brother you’re talking about!”

“That’s the point!” Tyler exclaims. “You’ve got that big brother wisdom, don’tcha? Tell me if I should kiss it better.”

Jordie groans. “Do _not_ get me involved in your sex life, that’s so wrong.”

Something flutters in Jamie’s belly, and he smiles. It’s a massive relief that Jordie’s handling things so well. He’d confronted Jamie after he and Tyler had gone public, demanded to know why Jamie’d kept this a secret from him. Jamie’d stumbled through hand-wavy explanations of not sure how it would work, not wanting to risk ruining anything between Jordie and Tyler because of it, and eventually Jordie softened and accepted it. Thankfully, nothing’s changed, and Jordie still heckles Tyler amiably like before, even with Tyler’s now constant reminders of the things he “does” with Jordie’s little brother.

Jamie leans against the window and falls asleep visualizing the puck leaving his stick and finding the back of the net.

~

The puck drops in Columbus and Tyler’s challenge is all Jamie can think about. The bellows from the stands bathed in blue around them is like muffled background static; it means nothing to him. He wants to feel the hard rubber against his tape, wants to hear the snow spray as his blades cut through the ice, wants to see the puck travel right through those holes in the Jackets’ defensive coverage.

He’s on a mission this game, and he knows Tyler is too.

Sure enough, any doubts he might have had a few days ago about their ability to score points for the team are swiftly dissolved. Tyler gets another hatty and Jamie gets a Gordie Howe. It feels natural, to make that shot-pass to where he knows Tyler’s in the slot in the first period, for Tyler’s to be the first goal of the night. The rush of muscling through three defenders to net his own goal rings in his ears, makes him feel alive with it. The fighter’s instinct, to rally his team after they’d allowed the Jackets to tie it up, burns in every vein. All the pieces come together so seamlessly that everything else becomes secondary.

This is his life, no matter how the media spins it.

The guys go out for drinks later that night, and Tyler spends it weaving his way around the guys, bragging to anyone who’ll listen about how he is definitely getting a hat trick blowjob tonight and winking obscenely at Jamie when he does.

“First goal was all you, babe,” he hears Tyler yell across the bar at some point while Jamie’s begrudgingly ordering shots for the table, and Jamie feels the flush spreading from the back of his neck to the tips of his ears when the bartender cocks an eyebrow at him. It makes his insides writhe painfully with how fake it is. It’s too obvious, he thinks. Playing along with the guys’ chirps was fine, but now Tyler’s initiating for no good reason and he’s taking this way too far. How are the guys not seeing through this yet?

“Just cause you guys are out now doesn’t mean you have to pull all this gross couples shit,” Jordie’s griping when Jamie returns with the drinks.

“Yes it does!” Tyler argues. “Do you have any clue how painful it was to hold this all back?”

And that’s – hmm. Tyler’s turning out to be better at this than Jamie’d initially assumed.

Tyler must have caught on to Jamie’s reactions, though, because they’re lying in their separate beds at the hotel that night with the lights off when he says abruptly, “Too much, d’you think?”

Jamie says, “Huh?” before he figures what Tyler’s getting at, then he backpedals and stammers, “Ah, no, I guess not. It’s just weird. It feels…forced, I guess.”

“Well, obviously for you it would be,” Tyler scoffs playfully. “No one expects this kind of shit from you, so I gotta be fun enough for the both of us.”

Jamie barks out a laugh; he can’t help himself. “You have a very strange definition of fun, Seguin.”

“You gotta lighten up a little, Chubbs. Just roll with it!”

Jamie heaves a sigh, and Tyler mirrors him.

“Anyways, I’m not gonna stop unless you tell me to,” Tyler says.

Jamie swallows hard. He can’t explain it, is the thing. He doesn’t even know what’s really troubling him about all this, doesn’t have a clue where to possibly begin. “I guess it’s fine, for now,” he admits. “I’ll get used to it.”

“Atta boy,” Tyler says mildly.

They don’t talk more after that, and Jamie wishes the prickles of trepidation under his skin would go away. Tyler’s breathing evens in no time at all; Jamie shifts restlessly under the covers for what feels like hours before he’s finally able to doze off.

~

They win and score again next game, pulling off a come-from-behind victory, and things seem okay for a while. It’s enough to allay the unwelcome ache in Jamie’s chest, at least for the time being, and he and Tyler play beautiful hockey together, just like last season.

Riding their current successes, ESPN asks to do a feature with them, a neat video of them interviewing each other and then a slightly more serious article about navigating an open homosexual relationship in the NHL. Jamie reluctantly consents, but only because Tyler’d insisted.

The interviewing each other part ends up being pretty awesome, but the rest of it is arduous and uncomfortable and Jamie just wants to shrivel up and hide under a blanket somewhere, then feels even more ashamed for acting like such a petulant child.

He tries not to let himself think much of it, but then the article is released and it’s like a rug is tugged out from under him all over again. His and Tyler’s names end up trending all over social media again, and his phone is blown up with messages and notifications. Jamie can’t even browse his own pages without catching glimpses of all the things people are saying about them, and they only serve to agitate him more. Eventually he just disables all notifications.

From there, everything goes to shit. They lose six games in a row, four of which are at home, and Jamie’s utterly dysfunctional. He can’t score, Tyler struggles as well, and all Jamie can think is how much of a fucking disappointment he is, how much of a disgrace he is to the fans, to the team. He wants so badly to do right by them, but the bounces just don’t seem to be going his way. Or maybe it’s just that Jamie’s no good.

Jamie doesn’t know what it is and he doesn’t know what to do, only knows that the longer this drags on the more he’ll be marked as the man who couldn’t deal with being an openly gay athlete in the NHL. That thought alone is enough to make his stomach hurl, and he spends more than his fair share of time hunched over his toilet bowl at night even though nothing ever comes up.

In the locker room, Tyler aggressively behaves like everything’s peachy, invading Jamie’s personal space and toeing the line of inappropriate, alluding to all sorts of shenanigans he and Jamie get up to behind closed doors, much to Jordie’s dismay. On the ice, Tyler plays like he’s possessed, and Jamie can’t for the life of him fathom why.

Nothing makes sense anymore, not like this, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

It’s clear that Tyler knows something’s up, because he invites Jamie over for Xbox competitions almost every afternoon they’re in Dallas and chats animatedly about anything that’s not related to hockey. Shooting stuff in the face helps at least somewhat, and Tyler foregoes their diet plan for pizza with pepperoni and mushrooms – Jamie’s favorite – but the gesture always falls a little flat. And as much as he tries, Jamie can never bring himself to fully return Tyler’s hopeful smiles, and he hates himself for the way the corners of Tyler’s mouth droop every time he leaves.

They end their despicable homestand with a game against the Sharks, and it’s the first time Jamie’s ever wanted to be a scratch. He doesn’t say anything out loud, but he catches Tyler looking at him during warmups, face stricken, and his heart plummets because he knows this is just gonna fuck things up more.

“Segs,” he starts, but Tyler cuts him off.

“I’m gonna fix this,” he says forcefully, eyes sparking with something Jamie can’t place. “Watch me. I’ll prove it to you.”

He does. Tyler nets a hat trick midway through the game, giving them a 3-1 lead, and Jamie’s heart swells with pride. Tyler said he would fix it and he had; Tyler tries so hard every game; Tyler’s doing this all to prove to Jamie and the team that things will be all right. Now, Jamie thinks he might actually believe him.

It doesn’t last. They blow the lead in the third and give up four unanswered goals. Tyler breaks his stick leaving the ice, and Jamie’s too numb to react. He barely manages to make it to the bathroom back home before he vomits all over the toilet.

Their next game is in Arizona and the mottled feeling constricting Jamie’s lungs still won’t go away. He digs his shoulder into Erat’s at the edge of the faceoff circle, like he always would, but he’s just going through the motions, the cool arena air buzzing unnaturally around him, making his limbs twinge.

Tyler’s crouching low against Hanzal at the dot when Jamie hears it: “Not doing so hot these days, are you? Bet your team’d be better off without a useless faggot like you dragging them down.”

Jamie’s upright and moving towards him before he even registers what he’s doing. “Say that again,” he growls. “I fucking dare you.”

Hanzal’s mouth twists and he bares his teeth. “Defending your useless boyfriend? That’s sweet. Maybe you homos should focus more on playing hockey instead of being so far up each other’s asses that –”

Jamie sees red and his blood boils, and it’s like every nerve is on fire. “You fucking shi–”

“That’s enough!” the ref interrupts, holding a hand up. He points at Jamie. “Get back to your spot.”

“But –”

“Jamie, enough,” Tyler interjects, throwing him a severe look. “It’s just words, come on, we’ve got a game to win.”

It’s not just words. Jamie will make Hanzal eat those words if it’s the last thing he does, he’ll hit him so hard he punches his brains out to leave a festering mess of a corpse on the ice, he’ll fucking destroy him –

The puck drops and so do Jamie’s gloves.

They’re on each other before the play can unfold, probably not even five seconds into the game. Jamie’s pulse is thundering in his ears and his body’s itching all over, and he can’t think; all he knows is that he wants Hanzal to hurt. Really hurt.

But Hanzal’s grip on him is strong, and Jamie doesn’t have the reach he needs, can’t get to him no matter how hard he tries, and the next thing he knows the linesmen are pulling them away and guiding them to their respective penalty boxes, and god fucking damn it Jamie’s uselessness knows no bounds.

Out of the corner of his eye he spots Tyler watching him with some warped combination of pity and frustration and regret, and Jamie’s just so lost.

The rest of the game feels like he’s wading through mud, and then they’re down 2-0 and Jamie thinks his life must be some sick joke on loop for this to be happening again.

But then Tyler scores twice and just like that, they have life again.

It’s too good to be true, Jamie thinks, there’s no way they can keep this up, but the boys are energized around him and somehow they pull out a win, and that’s it, their losing streak is over. Everyone dogpiles around Kari for keeping them in the game in the final scrambles, and the guys whoop exuberantly as they make their way off the ice. Jamie suddenly feels very out of place, like he doesn’t deserve to be a part of this, to partake in their joy.

When the team goes out for drinks later, Tyler’s happier than Jamie’s seen him all season so far. He’s all bright eyes and wide smiles and pink cheeks, and if Jamie’d thought Tyler was flirting with him in front of the guys before, well, he’d been sorely mistaken.

He’s most assuredly flirting with Jamie now, and it would almost be charming if it wasn’t so phoney. And it’s not just the suggestive looks and comments, it’s these barely-there lingering touches, fingers just skimming Jamie’s back or shoulders as he makes his usual rounds, ensuring he mingles with everyone. Jamie’s accustomed to Tyler being a handsy little shit, but this is foreign enough that it makes Jamie shiver when he’s not expecting it.

“Gotta celebrate the win tonight, eh babe?” Tyler says at one point from the other side of the table, and Jamie can’t tell if that smile is genuine or not, if Tyler’s turning it up for the sake of the sham or if it’s his own way of looking out for Jamie, of reminding him that this is still something to smile about, despite the rest of this shitty season so far. He honestly can’t decide which option he prefers.

Jamie’s thankful for an excuse to head back to the hotel when some of the older guys finally settle their tabs. Tyler’s head swivels right away when he notices, and he shuffles in line with Jamie when he exits the bar, making stupid faces at the guys he leaves behind.

“You can stay out, you know,” Jamie says under his breath as they’re walking.

Tyler grins. “Gotta keep up appearances,” he says. He tilts his head behind them with an impish glint in his eyes. “Besides, don’t look now, but we might have an audience.”

Jamie freezes, but Tyler prods him forward. “ _What_?”

Tyler shrugs noncommittally. “Oh, you know, Dills and Eaks and Garbs might be following us back and I might have overheard that Eaks is in the room next to ours and they might want to see if they can get any material to bug Jordie with.”

“The fuck?” Jamie’s mind is racing. This can’t actually be happening. He turns his head but Tyler kicks him in the calf.

“Don’t be an idiot, come on, just play along.”

They get back to their hotel room five minutes later. Tyler shuts the door behind them but keeps an ear pressed against it. He signals for Jamie to listen in, and he hears footsteps approaching, accompanied by the unmistakeable hushed voices of his teammates.

“Don’t be too loud, we don’t want them to hear us,” Dills is saying.

“Come on, my room’s right here,” Eaks says, and there’s the sound of a lock clicking and a door opening and closing and then there’s silence.

“Ugh, I can’t believe this,” Jamie bellyaches as he retreats from the door, trailing Tyler into the room. “What are we gonna do?”

Tyler flashes a mischievous grin. “Duh, we give them a show.”

Give them a show. Tyler wants to give them a show, Tyler wants the guys to think they’re fucking, and Jamie cannot believe this is his life right now.

“Why can’t we just stay quiet and pretend like we were tired and went to bed?” Jamie says, dropping his volume mid-sentence when he remembers that there are guys in the next room waiting for whatever sounds make it through the walls.

“Are you kidding?” Tyler says incredulously. “After all the bedroom eyes I was giving you over dinner? We are banging tonight.” Then he raises his voice and whines, honest to god _whines_ , “ _Jamie, come on, please, I need it_!”

“Tyler!” Jamie hisses.

Tyler winks obnoxiously and deliberately kicks at the chair so that it knocks into the desk. Jamie’s heart sinks and he knows that he’s lost this one. His one consolation, his thinks, is that the guys probably aren’t counting on him to be vocal.

“I cannot believe you’re doing this,” Jamie says. “This is ridiculous.”

“ _We’re_ doing this,” Tyler corrects. He leaps onto the bed, smirking when the movement causes the headboard to clunk incriminatingly against the wall. “We’re in this thing together.”

“Yeah, and that was your fault to begin with,” Jamie snaps.

Tyler doesn’t even bat an eye. “Free to tap out whenever you want, Chubbs,” he reminds him calmly. “I told you I’m in this until you’re done. _Oh my god, your mouth, just – yeah._ ”

“But –” Jamie knows Tyler’s got him yet again. There’s no way he’s backing out of this agreement yet, not when the media is still so intrusive. The last thing they need right now is another media fiasco criticizing the team dynamic when the faces of the franchise split up, especially not when the team’s performance is sub-par. They also don’t need Tyler gasping and keening on the bed, which would admittedly be kind of hot if it weren’t for the fact that this whole situation is totally ridiculous.

“ _I’m so close, Jamie, please_ ,” Tyler moans unashamedly, making an appallingly indecent face as he does. “ _I’m gonna – hngh!”_ Jamie grimaces and turns away, but not before Tyler grabs his wrist and yanks, sending Jamie sprawling onto the bed with a grunt. He winces at the noise. He hadn’t meant for it to be that loud.

“What are you –”

“Dude, give me something to work with here!” Tyler says. He waggles his tongue and licks his lips, eyes gleaming with delight. “You know I like it rough.”

Jamie rolls his eyes and groans inwardly, pushing himself back off the bed. At Tyler’s look, he kicks the mattress so that the headboard hits the wall again. “No I do not, because we are, in fact, not actually dating, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Why do you have to be so uptight about this?” Tyler complains. “I’m trying to help you here.”

Jamie sighs. “I know, it’s just – this is all so dumb.”

Tyler shoots him an _obviously_ look. “I get it, man. I know all about bad press, okay? Just give it time, and it’ll cool down.” He raises his voice again to whimper, “ _Do it Jamie, come on, let it go, mess me up_ ,” and settles back again. “By the time we’re halfway through the season no one’s gonna care anymore.”

Jamie shoves at the mattress again, and the headboard hits the wall with a satisfying thump. Tyler’s right, Jamie knows he’s right. He thinks back to that terrible morning, can almost taste the cottonmouth again, can feel the pounding in his head, and the dread that coursed through him when he finally realized why his phone kept going off. His life has been a disaster ever since, and no matter how much he tries to pick up the pieces, they keep tumbling back out of his hands.

But that’s why Tyler’s here, isn’t it? Tyler showed up with the dustpan, throwing himself headfirst in front of Jamie to take care of the mess, not caring about the dirt he’d accumulate in the process. It was selfless and completely unnecessary – and yet here he is, with Jamie, rolling around on the bed spewing filth from his mouth like a porn star.

It’s not ideal, but it’s infinitely better than what he could have had if he were alone in this.

He hits the mattress one last time and lets out a shuddering exhale. For a long moment, neither of them move or speak. Then Tyler sits up to face him.

“You good, babe?” he asks, not bothering to keep his voice down this time. His expression is thoughtful, almost concerned.

Jamie nods slowly. “Yeah. Thanks.” He lowers his voice again. It’s hard enough to even get these next words out at all. “I appreciate what you’re doing for me, okay? Please don’t ever think I don’t.”

Tyler reaches forward and ruffles Jamie’s hair. Jamie instantly scowls and backs away, smoothing it over quickly, but he relaxes as soon as he sees that Tyler’s beaming at him. It’s a good enough answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was much more of an emotional roller coaster for Jamie than I'd originally intended it to be, oops. On the bright side, Tyler's POV is up next? Make of that what you will.
> 
> As always, thank you so very much for the kudos and especially the comments. The feedback has been truly wonderful and validating and it keeps me motivated to make this worth it for you all. Take care and I hope you enjoyed this one!
> 
> New fic blog: nuanta-fic.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long! The past few weeks have been ridiculously hectic and filled with unforeseen circumstances, notably me essentially being kicked out of my home for urgent repairs (mold was involved, eugh) and now renovations. Things will be pretty crazy for another two weeks but I managed to get this done. Sorry if the quality isn't as good. It's still my longest chapter yet. (How am I doing this??)
> 
> This chapter's dedicated to everyone who's been so kind and supportive during this time, and to Em for once again screaming at me over this fic.

 

_in the meantime, we let it go_

~

Things don’t improve right away, but it wasn’t like Tyler expected that conversation in the hotel room to dramatically shift Jamie’s worldview or anything. Tyler does, however, get epic shit for his porn noises from the guys in the dressing room in LA, much to Jordie’s chagrin, and it’s great because Jamie actually laughs along with it despite going adorably red in the face. Then they go out and win and everyone goes home satisfied.

Naturally, it can’t last, so they lose their next back-to-back, and the second game isn’t even close, and Jamie’s back to looking like a kicked puppy. It fucking sucks.

They have a five-game homestand coming up next and everyone’s talking about the home ice disadvantage and Lindy’s emphasizing the importance of team cohesion during difficult times, so Tyler hatches his master plan. He invites the guys over for an epic NHL 15 tourney that lasts the better part of three non-game-days. So they might order takeout every night, but hey, it’s a nice laid-back atmosphere and the guys are chirping good-naturedly and everyone seems to be having a grand time though they’d all vehemently protested when Tyler stipulated that no one was allowed to play as the Stars. So, yeah, Tyler’s damn well pleased with himself.

Even Jamie seems to like it. He bumps Tyler’s shoulder when they’re sitting next to each other on the couch at the end of day two, while Alex and Trev are poised to head into overtime, and offers a small smile.

“This was a really good idea,” he concedes. “It’s nice to see the boys happy together.”

Tyler tries not to preen under the praise, and flashes an enormous grin. “Aww, Chubbs, you just admitted I’m brilliant,” he teases.

Jamie rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He yawns hugely, sinking deeper into the couch, limbs loose and relaxed. He’s got an arm over the top of the sofa, behind Tyler but deliberately not touching, and Tyler likes that Jamie’s displaying at least the tiniest possessive gesture here.

He watches Jamie’s mouth struggle to close, the way his eyelids fight to keep from squeezing shut. “You’re staying over again tonight, right?” he asks, totally forgetting to keep his voice down.

“Dude, don’t say that shit in front of me!” Jordie gripes loudly.

Jamie flushes instantly and ducks his head and Tyler stamps down on the urge to kiss his cheek. Instead, he scowls at Jordie. “I wasn’t even implying anything this time!”

“ _This time_ , ugh.”

It’s true. Jamie tends to get tired early, like the antisocial weirdo he is, and last time Tyler’d convinced him to just go to bed upstairs in one of the spare bedrooms (his, “I’ll join you later,” coupled with an obnoxious wink had earned him some heavy heckling from the guys). It made more sense than Jamie leaving on his own, and it made Tyler want to parade in front of Jamie, proclaiming, _See? I can come up with reasonable ideas too. Be proud of me_.

“I’ll stay,” Jamie says quietly, faint enough for only Tyler to hear.

Tyler pats his thigh, smiling gently when Jamie doesn’t stiffen under the touch. “Cool.”

And that’s how Jamie ends up at Tyler’s place for nearly the entire homestand. It’s more than welcome company, really, and Jamie’s pretty much a housekeeping god, fretting over cleaning and cooking and walking the dogs, so it’s not like Tyler’s in any position to complain either. Tyler’s bed is more than big enough to fit the two of them, but Jamie opts for one of the spare rooms anyways, rolling his eyes like Tyler’s making a silly joke whenever he suggests it. Tyler figures he probably shouldn’t tell Jamie he actually kind of means it. It works out well, though, since the guys don’t go upstairs and so have no way of knowing they aren’t actually sleeping together, Operation: Team Bonding is a phenomenal success, and Tyler gets to spend inordinate amounts of time with Jamie.

It also translates amazingly onto the ice. Day one of the tourney precedes their first game, which they lose 6-4, but Jamie finally breaks his scoreless drought and Tyler can’t help but mime pulling the monkey off his back when it happens. He tries to project relentless optimism onto Jamie the best he can, but Jamie still looks disappointed with himself.

Tyler all but drags Jamie back to his place afterwards for more video games, shoves Jamie up the stairs to the spare room when it gets late, and then insists they make waffles for breakfast before the team shows up that afternoon. Bit by bit, Tyler can see Jamie visibly unwind.

Sure enough, they win the next three in a row. Jamie keeps coming over after games, the rest of the guys continue to hang out when it’s not a game day even after the tournament ends (Fidds is eventually crowned the champion after a thrilling game 7 OT conclusion with Spezz, and Tyler tries not to pout and spew bitter nonsense at Spezz for eliminating him from the semi-final), and everyone seems happier.

Jamie’s the one whose attitude changes the most by far – he’s stopped worrying his lower lip between his teeth before warmups and his eyebrows set in such a way that makes him appear menacing rather than distressed like he always does. It’s a gratifying change.

Then they go and lose both games of their next back-to-back, and the second one is a miserable 5-2 loss in Colorado, and Tyler can find nothing on their hotel room TV to cheer Jamie up. It’s fucking frustrating, that Jamie gets like this, and Tyler’s pool of counter-strategies is running on empty. Tyler just knows that Jamie is blaming himself for everything, blaming it on his sexuality even, and Tyler just wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him out of it.

Instead, he chooses a different, unusual tactic: he gives Jamie some space. When they land in Toronto, he uses the first afternoon to visit his mom and sisters. He doesn’t join the team for dinner this time (in his defense, his mom promised him Pizza Pizza and none of the guys would’ve stood for that) and doesn’t even return to the hotel that night.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t dawn on Tyler that it might be strange for Jamie to not be accompanying him on the family visit until his mom brings it up.

“Oh, uh, Jamie’s been really tired lately, might be catching something, so he decided to stay back at the hotel,” Tyler finally stammers out. “He would’ve loved to see you guys, he told me to promise that he’ll be there next time.”

It seems to be the right thing to say, because his mom nods her understanding. “Well, make sure you say hi to him for us, and tell him he’s more than welcome anytime,” she says.

“I will.”

His mom shoots him a look, and Tyler’s gut drops. “Media giving you two a hard time?” she asks.

Tyler nods weakly; he can’t help himself. His mom has always been a safe place. “Well, it doesn’t really bother me, but it gets under his skin sometimes,” he admits. “But it’s fine. It’s a lot better now. I know I fucked up but we’re fixing it, I promise.”

Her features soften. “I know you are.” Then she looks stern again. “I better not find a picture of you proposing until at least two years from now.” Tyler busts up laughing, because irony is a bitch, and it takes him a full minute to stop.

He texts Jamie about the exchange because he needs to know exactly how Jamie feels about this. Jamie texts back a minute later and informs Tyler that he’s already come up with something similar to tell the guys, so there’s that.

He rejoins the team for practice the next morning and goes back to the hotel room with Jamie. They don’t talk much, just fiddle with their phones. The TV remote is closer to Jamie, but neither of them moves for it.

The silence is unbearable. Tyler finally sighs and slaps his phone onto the night stand, making Jamie jolt.

“I’m going for a run,” he declares. “You wanna come with?”

Predictably, Jamie shakes his head. For some undiscernible reason, the guy loathes jogs. Tyler doesn’t get it. The exhilaration from the sweat and the rush of air against him and the way his body just instinctively goes for it is something he can never get enough of. Point is, it’s sick cardio, and it’s also the best way to deal with lingering stress.

Tyler shrugs. “Your loss, man,” he says, and fishes through his suitcase for his shorts.

He dashes out of there after that, the restlessness crawling under his skin all over. The moment he gets going, though, with harsh rhythms pounding in his ears, he finds his groove and lets his thoughts wander.

Jamie’s such an enigma right now. Tyler knows this whole fiasco has been unrelentingly tough on him, but he’s having a rough time maneuvering through Jamie’s unpredictable mood swings. Sometimes he’s persuadable, sometimes he accepts Tyler’s gestures of goodwill, and then other days he’s completely reclusive or even combative. It makes no sense, and it only makes Tyler feel like shit. What’s he even supposed to do here? Tyler’s got no fucking clue.

By the time he’s hit the thirty-minute mark and rounds the corner of their hotel, he’s sweating profusely through his shirt and his jumbled emotions have converged to one singular desire: _I need a fucking shower_. Ah, yes. A hot shower to wash away the perspiration and grime and all the annoyances in his life – that’ll do it.

But when he swipes his key and pushes the door to his room open, he’s startled to hear the whirring of the bathroom fan and the spattering of water against the tile.

“Motherfucker,” he mutters. Now he’ll have to wait and the sweat will cool and cake on his skin and he’ll be gross all over. Eugh.

He knocks on the door to the beat of We Will Rock You as a means of letting Jamie know he’s back and heads to the mini fridge to chug the rest of the Gatorade he’d left there. He turns on the TV and flips through the channels in a fruitless attempt to find something remotely interesting.

After a few minutes of dreadful television and pacing the room, he calls, “Yo Chubbs! Hurry it up in there!”

There’s no response, so Tyler glares in Jamie’s direction and pretends he’s got laser eyes. He knows he’s behaving like a little shit, but he’s always irritable when he can’t rinse off right away after a run.

When he’s made it through all seventy-two stations twice, he heaves with impatience and marches over to the bathroom, banging against the door.

“I wanna shower!” he yells. “Come on already!”

“Shit, Ty, bug off,” Jamie gasps, barely audible over the sounds of the shower.

“You’re making me wait forever!” Tyler whines.

“I’m just – just give me a fucking minute!”

Jamie’s oddly breathless, which, what the fuck? What the fuck could that dude be possibly doing in the shower that –

The realization hits him all at once, and Tyler staggers away from the door.

Oh. Oh shit. Oh _motherfucking_ _shit_.

He blinks hard several times, trying to process this revelation. How long has Jamie been in there? Is this why he never joins Tyler for a run when they’re on road trips? How close is he?

Arousal zips down Tyler’s spine at the thought, and he really should shake himself out of it but now that he’s started he can’t stop. He’s seen Jamie naked in the showers before, knows he’s well-endowed, but now he’s imagining Jamie’s big hands curling around his dick, working up and down the shaft, tight and fast probably, now that he’s in a hurry to finish, and Tyler can just picture the way he might hunch over, muscles tensing when he comes, maybe with a fist in his mouth to muffle the sounds he might make, and –

The shower turns off and Tyler scurries back to the bed, thanking the heavens for loose-fitting shorts and the fact that his face stays pink for half an hour after he runs. He’s pretty sure he could rub one out in ten seconds flat, so that shower is even more appealing to him now.

Jamie enters the room, still dripping with a towel around his waist, and Tyler books it past him without even looking at him. He locks the bathroom door behind him and shimmies out of his clothes, and he’s already got his cock in hand even as he starts up the water.

Jamie must’ve rinsed away any evidence of his activities, but Tyler can almost feel Jamie’s bold, broad presence here, can almost feel Jamie plastered against his back, strong arms reaching around him to stroke his length. Maybe he’d gently nip at the juncture of Tyler’s neck and shoulder, or maybe he’d suck a bruise there, or whisper encouragingly in his ear. Tyler would repay him by going to his knees and letting Jamie fuck into his mouth, fingers digging into Tyler’s hair, and _oh_.

Tyler comes pretty much immediately after that, biting back a moan as he spills into his fist. The water splashes against his tingling skin as he eases himself through the aftershocks, and he waits for his pulse to settle before he cleans himself up, a comfortable warmth bleeding into his limbs.

It’s only once he emerges from the bathroom to find Jamie sitting at the opposite edge of the bed with his back towards him that Tyler remembers there’s an issue at hand. Suddenly everything else that’d been bugging him lately seems very small in comparison.

Tyler clears his throat a few times. “So, um, sorry about that,” he says. “I didn’t know you were – I didn’t mean to interrupt like that.”

Jamie huffs out a breath, but doesn’t turn around. “No, it’s – you had no way of knowing, and I – I should’ve paid more attention to the time.”

Thing is, Jamie sounds so dejected and ashamed, Tyler can’t help but feel like an ass for bringing it up. He racks his brain, trying to come up with some sort of reassurance. “Hey, look, next time let me know, we could go out and pick up.”

This time, Jamie turns to look at him, and his mouth is a thin line. “We can’t pick up if everyone thinks we’re dating,” he says pointedly, a flush high on his cheeks. “Did you forget that?”

Right. Tyler inwardly kicks himself. He knows that, of course he knows that, but he’d just gone with the first suggestion that came to mind, anything to fix this mortifying situation.

“Okay, well, then I’ll peace for a while, go bug Jordie or something.”

Jamie makes a wounded noise. “No, that’s not fair to you, this room is just as much yours as it is mine, I can’t just kick you out.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Dude, it’s fine, I really don’t mind. We’ve all got needs.” He ventures a sly grin to break the awkward tension. “We’ve only been gone a few days though, guess you couldn’t wait, eh?” he teases, wagging his eyebrows.

He expects Jamie to laugh, crack a smile at the very least, but Jamie just looks defeated.

“I’ve practically been living at your place,” he mumbles, going even redder.

And that’s when it all clicks. Tyler closes his mouth when he realizes it’s hanging open.

“Oh,” he says, rather eloquently.

There’s a drawn-out silence, where Jamie resolutely looks at the duvet and Tyler hovers by the other bed like an idiot. Then both of their phones vibrate on the night stand at the same time.

Tyler practically dives for his, grateful for the distraction. Turns out it’s a group text from Eaks to discuss dinner plans, and Tyler has never been hungrier than he is right now. Okay, that’s a lie, but food currently sounds like the absolute best thing in the world.

As it turns out, dinner is decidedly not the best thing in the world, because Tyler is expected to sit next to Jamie, and to not interact with each other would just be weird. So Tyler puts on his brightest smile and steals mashed potatoes from Jamie’s plate and offers to feed him French fries out of his hand, which is naturally followed by a resounding round of hooting from the guys. Jamie rejects him, because duh, but Tyler does catch him snatching a fry when he thinks Tyler’s not looking. It’s enough to make the awkwardness fade a tad.

It returns in full swing when they get back to their hotel room that night. They go back to not really talking, and Jamie messes with the remote until he finds a Bruins-Ducks game, groaning in exasperation when a clear shot from the slot misses by mere inches.

Tyler watches him, speculative. He likes the way Jamie’s eyes track every movement on the screen, focused and fierce, the way his lips part and his tongue flits out to scratch against his upper teeth while he concentrates on the game. So obviously the logical progression is to wonder how good Jamie is with his tongue, because Tyler really is fucking hopeless.

And that…hmm.

“We could do buddies,” he blurts.

Jamie slowly cranes his neck to face him. “What?”

Tyler gestures aimlessly. “You know. I could help you out next time.”

Jamie looks like he’s not comprehending, brow furrowed slightly in the middle. “Help with…?”

Tyler takes a brief moment to contemplate how to do this, then decides fuck it and mimes jerking off, holding back a chuckle at the way Jamie’s eyes go wide. Tyler’s never claimed to be subtle.

“I mean it,” he says hastily. “It’s like you said, we can’t go and hook up right now. So that’s why, like, as bros. It’s better with someone else’s hand than your own. Or with someone else’s mouth,” he adds, before he can rein it in, snickering in spite of himself.

“As bros,” Jamie echoes mechanically, stiff all over where he’s lying on his bed.

Tyler nods. The more he thinks about it, the more this sounds like it could be a great idea. “No strings attached,” he adds, inspired. “Just helping each other out while we do this fake dating thing.”

Jamie looks like he’s struggling for words. “That’s not…”

Tyler tries for an inviting smile. “Just think about it. No hard feelings. Just offering to help, is all.”

Anaheim scores, and Jamie promptly turns back to the TV. He doesn’t answer, and Tyler tries to ignore the sinking feeling that he’s fucked things up even more.

They lose to the Leafs and then again in Detroit. With the team, they act like everything’s normal, but in the hotel room, Jamie avoids eye contact and talk is scarce. It’s fucking stupid, and Tyler hates it, but he doesn’t trust himself to speak and not make the situation even worse.

All things considered, it’s a bit of a shock (okay, a lot of a shock) when Jamie corners Tyler after their next practice in Frisco and asks if they can do lunch and then videogames at Tyler’s place.

It’s the first time Jamie’s ever initiated anything since they got into this jig, and Tyler absolutely refuses to squander this opportunity. He turns up his charm levels to the max over burgers at a diner Jamie likes, disregarding Jamie’s mutters of, “You don’t have to go overboard here, Segs,” because there’s definitely a hint of amusement in Jamie’s voice and it only serves to encourage him.

It’s indisputably the best time they’ve had hanging out together in a while, and it’s really thrown Tyler for a loop. He doesn’t have a single clue what brought this on, but he’s certainly not one for passing up a fun time when it comes his way.

That all changes when they get back to the house, though, cause Jamie curls in on himself on the couch and won’t look Tyler in the eye anymore, which, what the fuck? They’d just had an awesome lunch and it’s prime time for some awesome video games, so what gives?

Tyler sighs and crawls over to the TV on his hands and knees, electing to ignore Jamie’s bizarre attitude problems for now. “Okay, Chubbs, what do you wanna play?” he asks, rummaging through the cabinet’s bottom shelf for his selection of games.

“Uh,” Jamie starts, and Tyler rolls his eyes even though he knows Jamie can’t see him. Dude can never make up his mind, but this time Tyler is determined to force Jamie into making the choice. “Actually, uh, could we talk about something?”

Leave it to Jamie to deflect picking. Tyler is so on to him, so he takes his time, pretending to shuffle through cases. “Yeah, what?” he says absently.

“Um.” Jamie’s voice wavers. “That, that thing you told me, back in Toronto.”

Well that’s not at all what Tyler’d been expecting.

He cautiously twists around and notices Jamie's face is the color of a tomato, hands wrung in his lap, eyes downcast. “What about it?” he asks carefully.

“Did you mean – what did you mean by it?”

Tyler frowns, not sure where this is coming from, though he’s starting to get an inkling of where this is going, and holy shit he might need to pinch himself sometime soon.

“I meant exactly what I said,” he replies.

Jamie still won’t look at him. “And it’s – just buddies?”

“Yep.”

“No, no strings attached?”

“You got it.”

“Just for now?”

“For as long as you need it,” Tyler says firmly, fighting to keep his voice from quivering, because this is actually happening and it’s all he can do to keep from jumping Jamie right then and there. “Same as with the dating thing. You can change your mind whenever. Whatever helps you out.”

Jamie finally looks up and meets his eyes, and Tyler hopes his are sincere.

A full-body sigh escapes Jamie, and his shoulders sag. He doesn’t speak, though, and Tyler’s still not entirely certain Jamie’s going to ask, but Tyler suddenly desperately wants him to.

He goes for a coy smile instead. “So, need a hand?”

It’s so hilarious and dumb that he bursts into peals of laughter, doubling over and rolling on the floor, and okay, maybe this is not the best way to assure Jamie of his charitable intentions, but god, he’s such a moron and it’s incredible. When he catches his breath and looks up, though, the corners of Jamie’s mouth are twitching upwards, so, points for the shitty pun.

Tyler inches towards where Jamie’s sitting on the couch. “Is that a yes?”

Jamie’s hands squeeze together, but he doesn’t answer.

It’s enough for Tyler to go for it. He moves until he’s on his knees in front of Jamie, takes Jamie’s hands in his and gingerly separates them, places them on the sofa on either side of his thighs. Still, Jamie says nothing.

Tyler eyes Jamie’s crotch, eager to begin, but there’s so much he wants to do that he doesn’t know where to start, and the indecision renders him immobile. He did not come this far just to wuss out, though, and the prospect spurs him into action.

He reaches out and hooks his fingers around the waistband of Jamie’s shorts, and Jamie’s breath hitches. Emboldened, Tyler yanks them down to his feet. He can see the outline of Jamie’s cock filling out through his boxers, and Tyler just wants.

He leans in and softly nuzzles the bulge in Jamie’s underwear, and Jamie’s legs spasm. Tyler grins, pats his thighs once each, and wastes no further time getting Jamie out of his boxers. He barely takes any time to admire Jamie’s cock, so big and thick, before taking it into his mouth.

Jamie gasps, nails grating against the couch, and Tyler gets to work. Sucking dick is one of his favorite things to do to a guy; he loves the power and the rush that comes from taking a dude apart with his mouth. That’s exactly what he wants to do to Jamie now, wants to feel him squirming in an effort to remain still, wants to hear all the noises he’ll make, see the expression he’ll take when he comes.

Tyler’s also pretty damn good at this, if he does say so himself, and so he shows Jamie just how good he can be, taking him in deep and hollowing his cheeks, pulling back while licking down the underside, lapping gently at the head before sucking him down again. It’s sloppy, he knows, but the day it fails to do the trick will be the day he learns how to cook something other than Kraft Dinner.

Jamie keens, fingers clenching the seat and thighs trembling. Tyler hums, and Jamie chokes out a sound like he’s been punched.

He pulls off just enough to look up at Jamie’s face. Jamie’s mouth hangs open, glassy-eyed and all pupil, and a hectic flush has risen across his cheeks, down his neck.

“You can touch, if you want,” Tyler tells him, voice already hoarse, but this is so, so worth it. It’s all he can do to keep himself from rubbing off against the couch, but there’s a task at hand here.

Jamie gulps, and Tyler watches his throat work, transfixed by the movement, by the bead of sweat sliding down Jamie’s jaw. Then Jamie’s hands come to rest in Tyler’s hair, where they tangle in the curls, fingers slack. Tyler smiles and swallows him down.

It’s not long after that. Tyler gets no warning; Jamie inhales sharply, fists tight around Tyler’s hair, and his hips buck once before he’s coming into Tyler’s mouth. Fortunately for Tyler, he doesn’t have a gag reflex, and he wants to taste Jamie anyways, so he just swallows, takes it all in, patting one of Jamie’s legs as he does. He glances up just in time to see Jamie’s eyes screwed shut, lips parted in an ‘o’ shape, and Tyler’s heart swells because _he_ put that look on Jamie’s face and it’s perfect.

When it’s done, Jamie releases him and sinks into the sofa, and Tyler pulls away. Jamie’s eyes open slowly as his erratic breathing gradually steadies, and he looks at Tyler with something akin to wonder on his face. It’s too much and Tyler’s been ready to go off since he first got his mouth on Jamie’s dick, so he sticks a hand down his shorts and starts stroking himself right there on the floor.

“Sorry,” he gasps, tipping his head against Jamie’s calf. “Can I just –”

Jamie nods fervently. “Yeah, yeah, go for it,” he says, still breathless from coming, and his voice only fuels Tyler on as he jacks himself with intent, eyelids drifting closed.

It would be better if Jamie was the one doing this, with his enormous hands, but hey, Tyler dazing the fuck out of him with that blowjob is heady, and Jamie’s a solid presence around him, watching him, and every shaky breath Jamie takes sends a shiver down Tyler’s spine. This is actually happening, and it’s a hell of a lot more than Tyler can take right now. He moans unabashedly as he jerks and spills into his fist, panting into Jamie’s leg.

They stay there in silence for a moment while Tyler recovers. Finally, he looks up to find Jamie gazing down at him with wide eyes, hair in disarray and stuck to his forehead with sweat in some places. Frankly, it’s fucking dorky and adorable, and Tyler feels the sudden urge to want to make him look like that all the time.

“So,” Tyler says, wrenching himself away from Jamie so he doesn’t end up snuggling against him or some shit like that. “That okay?”

Jamie nods. “Yeah, that was – yeah,” he says.

“Something you’d want to try again, maybe?” Another nod.

Tyler beams at him. “Awesome.” Then he slaps Jamie’s thigh, uses the support to push to his feet, and stretches out. “So I gotta shower upstairs, but you can use the one on this floor if you want, you know it’s stocked. Then I’m gonna kick your ass at Call of Duty, so get ready.”

Jamie snorts out a laugh, and Tyler waves once before taking the stairs two at a time.

The whole shower, Tyler has to fight to keep from bouncing and then slipping and falling to his death because Jamie said they could do this again, and he’s never felt a buzz quite like this, not from other times he’s had sex or even from alcohol. It’s a sweet feeling, and it persists even after he’s cleaned up and Jamie joins him back in front of the console. They chirp each other like it’s nobody’s business and throw a few lame jabs here and there like the sore losers they are, and the evening carries on like all’s right in the world.

They win their next home game, and Jamie seems settled on the ice in a way Tyler hasn’t seen all season. It’s not a flawless game but it’s a step in the right direction, and when he hears Jamie say as much to a reporter after a game with the nearly the same confidence he exuded in front of a sold-out crowd the night they made the playoffs, Tyler has to fake a few coughs to keep his face from splitting in a massive grin.

“And how’s the team dynamic right now, what with you and Tyler out to them, and the world?”

Tyler stops coughing very quickly after that.

“It’s, it’s really good,” Jamie answers, and he sounds his usual game-tired rather than profoundly exhausted. “The guys are great, we couldn’t ask for a better bunch of boys in the locker room, and, uh, we all come to the rink every day with the same goal in mind.”

“So nothing’s changed?” the reporter presses.

Jamie shakes his head, running a hand through his sweaty hair in a pointless bid to keep it from tumbling back into his face again. “No, nothing.”

It’s his standard media lie, it has to be, and yet – Tyler can swear he’d heard something genuine in Jamie’s tone. But maybe that’s him projecting. Still, it’s difficult to ignore the fluttering sensation in his stomach at those words.

Jamie shows up at his place the day before they’re scheduled to fly out for their western Canada road trip. He’s weirdly fidgety when Tyler lets him in, but Tyler has a sneaking suspicion he knows what’s going on here, and his gut does a silly little flip.

“Um, so you said we could –”

“Yep,” Tyler says instantly, pulse quickening because he’s so sure that he’s right and he wants to be right so badly.

“So, like, is now a good –”

“Anytime.”

“You sure?”

“Want me to blow you again?”

Jamie goes scarlet, so that answers that, and Tyler mentally fist pumps, because that first time had been an experience undeniably worth repeating.

“Where do you want it?” Tyler forges on. “Here in the hallway, on the couch like last time, in the kitchen could be fun, or heck we could go up to my bedroom and –”

“Um, I don’t care, just –” Jamie’s gnawing at his lower lip, “Can I get you first this time?”

Tyler shuts right the fuck up, because damn he needs to hear that again and that’s got nothing and everything to do with the easy heat pooling low in his gut.

“It’s just, I, I didn’t do anything for you last time, and uh, that wasn’t really fair?” Jesus Christ, how does Jamie make bashful and uncertain so freaking hot?

“Dude,” Tyler says. “I seriously don’t care as long as I get off.” Which is maybe like 15% true, but whatever, Jamie doesn’t need to know that. “But if you wanna, I’m not gonna say no.”

Jamie relaxes, and Tyler shoots him a filthy smirk.

“So, Chubbs, tell me what you’ve got in mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I have a fairly good idea of how this is gonna go, so I'm estimating this fic will be 8 or 9 chapters total. I also may or may not break the rhythm of alternating POVs. Next chapter will be Jamie's for sure, but after that will depend on how much I fit into it. 
> 
> As always, if you've noticed any errors or issues, please feel free to point them out, either here or on tumblr. I always love constructive criticism. Thanks as always for the wonderful comments! I like to re-read them when I'm upset, so they really mean a lot to me!
> 
> New fic blog: nuanta-fic.tumblr.com


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW okay so this took me forever and also the condo renovations still aren't done and between that and all sorts of other things I've barely been writing. Plus I've been stagnating so hard on this chapter that I finally gave up and cut it short, and I'll write the rest as a new chapter instead. Maybe it'll clear my head. I just really wanted to post some of it at least. Thanks for being so patient.
> 
> Special thanks to Schizzar for being so awesome lately. And to everyone else for being super supportive while I stress out for no reason.

 

_oh, I'm gonna mess this up. oh, it's just my luck_

~

Jamie doesn’t mean to hook up with Tyler during their roadie in western Canada, but he does anyway. Twice. The first time, in Calgary the night before their game, Tyler lets Jamie rub off on his abs in exchange for a blowie. The second is in Edmonton just before their flight back home, shared hasty hand jobs in the hotel room shower when they’d realized they didn’t have time.

It’s startling and a little disconcerting how much he wants and enjoys it. Tyler’s all lean muscle mass and Jamie’s never been with a man this toned before, but there’s something devastatingly attractive about grinding up all over a guy’s six-pack that gives Jamie the chills in the best way possible. Then again, it’s his first time with a professional athlete, so it’s probably to be expected.

Jamie thinks maybe he should show some modicum of restraint, but Tyler seems to have made it his mission to ensure Jamie’s needs are always tended to. He’s evidently guilty for making Jamie go so long without – not that it was Tyler’s fault that Jamie kept sleeping over at his place, not really, but Jamie can at least appreciate the sentiment.

It’s nice that Tyler is so perfunctory with this new benefits deal. Coming to Tyler the first time had been awkward and shameful, but it gets easier after that. Jamie only has to ask once and Tyler will accommodate him, and once it’s all done they tidy up and go back to whatever else they were doing like nothing’s ever happened at all.

Casual hookups have never been this straightforward, so Jamie’s not complaining.

Also, they win all three games and Jamie puts up four points, and Tyler becomes adamant that Jamie’s performance is directly related to his sexual maintenance. It’s triggered by a lewd joke in the locker room that Tyler latches onto, and Jamie’s too mortified to even pretend it might be true.

Whatever it is, something’s finally clicking on the ice, and Jamie’s grateful for any and all causes.

Christmas sneaks up on them before they know it, and Tyler flies his family out to visit. Jamie’s family won’t be arriving until New Year’s, so it’s decided that he and Jordie will join the Seguins for a holiday feast.

Originally, Jamie was going to give Tyler his space and time with his family until then, but he gets a text just before dinner on Christmas Eve.

_get ur ass over here 4 food asap my mom wont stop asking abt u_

Jamie’d had a sneaking suspicion Jackie Seguin would inevitably try to rope him into all family activities, especially what with how she’d reacted according to Tyler when they were in Toronto. So he texts Tyler back an affirmative and hurries to change into something more presentable than boxers and a t-shirt with the neck ripped out.

Jackie’s all over him the moment he walks through the door and Jamie immediately wishes there’d been a way to politely decline the invitation. He’s met her before, knows she’s a lovely woman as well as the obvious reason Tyler ended up as gregarious and extroverted as he is, but this is overwhelming.

“– couldn’t have you spending this time of year away from your boyfriend, that’s just not fair at all –”

“It’s all right, really,” Jamie answers distressingly. “Family’s important too.”

“But you _are_ family now,” Jackie insists.

“Mom!” one of Tyler’s sisters – Jamie really needs to figure out which is which – hollers from the kitchen. “Food’s ready!”

Jackie beckons him over and bustles back to the kitchen, leaving Jamie in the entrance with Tyler hovering ahead of him, looking sheepish.

 _Sorry_ , he mouths. Jamie can only shrug.

Dinner is a nightmare. Jackie fills most of the silences, gushing about how wonderful it is that Tyler’s found someone like Jamie and how much of a positive influence he’s been, and Tyler’s sisters stifle giggles and mock their brother mercilessly while he ribs them right back.

Jamie nods and stutters out simple acknowledgements and responses when required, but the whole time he just wants to melt into his chair. His face is on fire and his gut twinges with unease. Jackie seems so happy and Jamie feels like shit for lying to her. Her delight towards this “relationship” is the product of a giant ruse, and she doesn’t deserve this dishonesty, but what else can Jamie possibly do?

There’s no alternative other than to helplessly roll with it, and by the time Tyler walks him to the door at the end of the night, Jamie’s about ready to collapse.

“Thanks for stopping by,” Tyler says quietly. “See you and Jordie tomorrow, I guess.”

“Yeah.” It comes out on a tired sigh.

Tyler searches his face. “It’s just one more time,” he tries. “It’s –”

There’s a hushed whisper from somewhere behind Tyler, and he starts. “Darn it,” he mutters. “The brats are watching us, aren’t they?”

Jamie peers over Tyler’s shoulder and catches a glimpse of blonde hair lurking around the kitchen doorway. “Definitely,” he confirms.

“Bet you ten bucks they wanna see us kiss,” Tyler says, voice low, but there’s a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

“No thanks,” Jamie says, blushing instantly while his stomach lurches. For all the times they’ve hooked up now, they’ve never kissed. It’s just straight down to business and quick orgasms to keep things impersonal, to prevent things from getting weird.

Admittedly it’s more an unspoken agreement, but Jamie appreciates how Tyler always scuttles away as soon as it’s done. It reinforces the fact that this is nothing more than a favor between bros, and not something to get hung up over. Knowing Tyler’s not interested in escalating things makes it safer, gives Jamie confidence that this was a good idea after all.

“Okay,” Tyler says simply. “Gimme a hug at least.”

Jamie obliges, leaning in and burying his face in Tyler’s neck so he doesn’t have to witness any sniggering sisters. Tyler wraps himself around Jamie, clinging tight for several seconds, and it’s a warm and steady embrace and Jamie’s surprised at the calm seeping through him when they separate.

“See you tomorrow,” Tyler repeats, smiling mildly.

“See you,” Jamie echoes back, and then he flees.

~

Christmas is much of the same, but Jamie’s eternally indebted to Jordie for accompanying him. Jordie’s easily more outgoing and can actually maintain a conversation. It’s such a perfect buffer that Jamie is going to have no choice but to take his brother out to dinner for a full week after this. Sure, there are moments of red-faced embarrassment, even for Tyler of all people, and okay, Jordie might have instigated a small portion of it, but it’s a massive step-up from the night before.

Besides, it’s not like Jamie can blame Jordie – his brother is still blissfully unaware of the true situation, so it’s impossible for him to discern why this is making Jamie uncomfortable, more than just the routine social awkwardness or PDA shyness. Tyler’s the only one in the room who knows, and it’s clear from the minute glances he throws Jamie’s way that he gets it, but he remains his regular, boisterous self and provides more teasing fodder for his sisters.

Throughout the dinner, Tyler keeps refilling Jamie’s glass with wine and then bumping their shoulders together or tipping his head onto Jamie’s collarbone, giving him these bright, toothy smiles and it’s remarkably difficult to determine whether or not he’s faking them. He seems to be genuinely enjoying himself, even at the cost of his own dignity. Jamie doesn’t know how Tyler can manage to be so free-spirited and easygoing through all of his. He kind of envies that, yearns to do the same.

Although, he thinks when he notes how pleasingly pink Tyler’s cheeks are, maybe it’s not so complicated after all.

By the time they’ve licked their plates clean and migrated to the living room instead, Jamie’s sufficiently buzzed and hanging a little looser than before. He lets himself rest his arm on the back of the sofa behind Tyler and almost doesn’t notice him listing into it, but even then he finds he doesn’t care.

Tyler’s grown increasingly handsy with each drink, and he has now taken to nuzzling Jamie’s neck. The warm breath puffing against his skin makes his spine tingle, which he thinks should be a cause for concern but doesn’t trouble him in the slightest.

There’s a snap from Candace taking a picture of Tyler plastered to Jamie’s side on her phone. “I’m so posting this on Instagram,” she says, chin tilted smugly.

“No!” Jamie gasps, horrified, head swiveling around the room for support. Jackie and Cassidy are giggling; Candace’s grin only widens.

Jordie blessedly intervenes. “Hey now, it’s really better if you don’t. The media can get pretty crazy when stuff like this comes out. You want your brother to focus on hockey first, don’t you?”

“I thought you were fun,” Candace grumbles, but she puts her phone away. Jamie makes a mental note to treat Jordie to an expensive steak.

“Trust me, I want that picture up there just as much as you do,” Jordie mourns. “Unfortunately, my job is easier if your brother does his properly, so.”

“So selfish,” Tyler whines. It’s muffled in the crook of Jamie’s neck, vibrating when he speaks. It sends a shiver through him and suddenly Jamie wants Tyler’s mouth around a much lower part of his anatomy, but that’s – no, they’ve got Tyler’s family all here and Jordie’s here and Jamie can just jack off back at his place later this time, he doesn’t always need to get it from Tyler. Just because they have this arrangement doesn’t mean Jamie needs to ask for it every time the urge presents itself.

Still, it’s hard to ignore with Tyler’s body pressed so strongly against his. Jamie inwardly curses his libido and nudges Tyler off of him. Tyler blinks up at him in confusion before he jolts and retreats properly into his spot on the cushions, curling in on himself.

Jordie claps him on the back. “Wow, buddy, harsh,” he says good-naturedly.

Jamie gives a half-smile in return, face growing heated once more, and turns back to pat Tyler’s arm. “Hey, maybe slow down a little on the drinking, yeah?”

Tyler yawns hugely, squirming in his seat, eyes struggling to stay open as he does. “Kay, babe,” he mumbles. Jordie snorts loudly.

Jamie rolls his eyes at the endearment, a doubtless indication that Tyler’s night is over. “I think we need to get you to bed. Sorry,” he adds to Jackie, while Tyler’s sisters cackle. She brushes his apology aside and shoos him away.

Jamie extends a hand and hauls Tyler to his feet, placing an arm around his shoulders as he guides Tyler upstairs.

Once in his bedroom, Tyler fumbles out of his clothes until he’s down to his boxers and flops into bed. “You gonna come to bed too?” he slurs, clumsily flailing his arms in Jamie’s direction.

Jamie firmly shakes his head, gut twisting. He’s still thinking about Tyler’s lips, and what they could be doing to him, but that’s too dangerous here. Besides, they’ve both been drinking, and Tyler’s definitely too drunk to mean what he’s saying. He remembers all too well, all too painfully what happened the last time he’d let himself be goaded by alcohol. He won’t let himself make that mistake again.

Tyler makes a disappointed noise which Jamie pointedly disregards. “Night, Seggy,” he says, and exits the room.

When he gets back downstairs, Jordie is laughing along with Tyler’s sisters, poking fun at Tyler for being the first to go to sleep.

Jamie clears his throat. “Uh, we should be heading out now,” he says. “You know, flight tomorrow and all. I know you guys’ll be leaving too.”

Jackie approaches to give him a bone crushing hug. “It was so nice to see you, Jamie,” she says earnestly, clutching his arms. “You’re always welcome to come visit us anytime. Make sure you leave some time for us in the summer!”

Jamie nods, swallowing hard.

Later, when Jordie’s dropping him off at his place, Jordie comments, “You know, I thought you’d have packed your stuff already so you could spend the night.”

Jamie shrugs. “Tyler’s got to take his family to the airport way before we leave for St Louis. It’d be too much of a hassle for him.”

There’s a part of him that wants so bad to tell Jordie the truth, to confess how in over his head he is in all this and maybe get some insightful brotherly advice, but he stamps that down and Jordie ruffles his hair before he goes.

Jamie doesn’t reflect on that for long, though, because the moment he’s lying down in bed he’s jerking it to the memory of Tyler sucking him off. He has enough presence of mind to wonder if this is going to make things weird, but then his climax crashes over him and then he’s not thinking about much at all.

~

Things don’t get weird. Jamie sees Tyler again when the guys all meet for their flight to St Louis and they carry on as usual. They win there and then they win two more games at home, the last one an epic 6-0 trouncing of the Coyotes on New Years’ Eve, no less, and everyone’s in high spirits when they enter the hall the organization’s rented to usher in the new year.

Things get weird at New Years’.

It’s not because Jamie’s parents are there. Jamie was thankful they could make it down for New Years’ since Christmas hadn’t worked out, even if it meant they now had to witness firsthand him and Tyler pretending to be a couple. That part was the least of Jamie’s worries, actually – Tyler is friendly and sweet with them and they were equally enamored with his ridiculous charm levels.

It’s not because of the party itself, either. The venue is great, the music’s jamming, and everyone’s having a grand time taking silly photos at the booth and drinking and dancing. Jamie even lets Tyler drag him onto the dance floor with some of the boys, even though Jamie can’t dance to save his life, and they move side-by-side in a circle without having to do anything humiliating like hold each other and act sentimental or sexy. Maybe Tyler could feign it convincingly, but Jamie will respectfully abstain, thank you very much.

It doesn’t get weird until there’s maybe three minutes till midnight and the countdown is garnering more attention by the second. Jamie’s just rejoined a bunch of the guys after a round at the photo booth with his parents when Jason says, “So, big kiss at midnight, right?”

The guys all hoot, but Jamie stares, not comprehending. “What?”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “You know, midnight, new year, lovers’ kiss…”

“Oh, yeah!” Tyler says, elbowing Jamie lightly in the ribs and stumbling into it. “Can’t miss that opportunity. Happens only once a year!” He slugs down the rest of his drink and waves his empty cup around. “I need a refill, stat!”

Jamie flushes hot and cold so fast he doesn’t know which is which. There’s a reason they’ve carefully avoided kissing until now. They’re not supposed to be like that. But the guys are looking at them expectantly and Tyler’s already playing along and so Jamie doesn’t know what else to do but nod his head and pray for the best.

 _It’s just a kiss_ , his brain chants it like a mantra as the countdown hits the one minute mark. _It’s just one kiss, and then the guys will get off our backs and go back to thinking it’s a PDA thing. It’s New Years’, it’s a special occasion, this is fine_.

Thing is, Tyler’s spectacularly drunk again. As a matter of fact, Jamie suspects this time is even worse than at Christmas. Tyler’s certainly more inclined to entertain the notion of a kiss when he’s smashed than when he’s sober. After all, sober Tyler backs away from Jamie once they’ve gotten each other off. Sober Tyler limits his flirty touching to something Jamie can cope with. Sober Tyler doesn’t want to make things weird.

It’s undoubtedly the reason Tyler hasn’t brought up his behaviour at Christmas and things have been as close to normal as their predicament will allow; it’s not worth dwelling on. Heck, Tyler’s probably already forgotten about it.

He could just say no. But Jamie doesn’t want to deal with the potential repercussions of denying a drunk Tyler, because there’s no telling what he might do or say and the discovery does not justify the risk.

It’s just one kiss. Every couple he knows, regardless of their stances on PDA, has always kissed at midnight. It would be weirder if he didn’t.

Oh, god, what’ll his parents think?

“Thirty seconds!” Tyler shouts, jostling Jamie’s shoulder.

Somewhere during Jamie’s internal monologuing, Tyler had left and returned with two new drinks. He thrusts one in Jamie’s face. “We gotta chug these before midnight!” he says gleefully.

Jamie’s stomach plummets. “Tyler, I –”

But the guys have erupted into a chorus of, “Chug! Chug! Chug!” and Jamie’s totally lost this one. He begrudgingly takes the glass and clinks it against Tyler’s.

“To motherfucking us!” Tyler declares proudly.

Jamie says, “To the team.”

And then they chug.

The boys cheer uproariously once they’ve finished, but it’s swiftly drowned out by the final ten second countdown sweeping over the hall.

“Nine!”

Tyler deposits his glass on a table next to them and Jamie mimics him.

“Seven!”

Jamie steps closer to Tyler, because if they’re gonna do this, they’re gonna do this right. Tyler fits against him easily, hands settling around Jamie’s waist.

“Four!”

Jamie buries his fingers in the hair in Tyler’s nape.

“Three!”

Tyler gazes up at him, eyes shining, licking his lips.

“Two!”

Jamie’s heart hammers in his chest, blood rushing in his ears. He can’t lose his nerve now…

“One!”

He surges forward and erases the distance between them.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

And everything around them fades into white noise.

Tyler’s lips are soft and wet with booze, his mouth hot against Jamie’s, and all of Jamie’s inhibitions crumble. His grip tightens instinctively in Tyler’s hair, and Tyler whimpers low, fingers digging into Jamie’s waist. He makes no effort to break away, and Jamie doesn’t want him to. It’s like sparks are shooting through his body at every point of contact and all Jamie wants is to feel Tyler everywhere around him as he fervently deepens the kiss.

Jamie’s lost track of how much time has passed when Tyler does pull away, eyes half-lidded, and Jamie’s suddenly aware of the guys jeering and catcalling. He dimly thinks it should bother him more than it does.

Tyler blinks up at him, pupils blown wide, a hectic flush high on his cheeks. “Come back to my place tonight?” he asks.

Jamie hesitates. He wants to – oh, does he ever want to. He wants to pin Tyler to the bed and kiss him breathless. He wants to take him apart and swallow all the sounds he’ll make. He wants so much from Tyler right now, but – his parents are staying with him. He can’t just ditch them for a roll in the sheets.

Also, alcohol.

“Another time,” he promises.

Tyler looks crestfallen, but then Jason arrives with shots and the distraction serves its purpose. Tyler’s too immersed in partying to bring it up again, and Jamie spends the rest of the night convincing himself not to regret his decision. It’s a losing battle, so he drinks himself into a stupor instead.

Jamie’s still lamenting his overriding sense of responsibility when he gets home far too late, but in his drunken haze it seems oddly distant now. He collapses into bed and falls asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

In the morning, hungover as hell when the memories of the party come flooding back to him, Jamie only has one thought: _Shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as mentioned, this chapter was cut short meaning the next chapter will also be Jamie's POV. I'm sorry this one is so terrible; I don't know why it was so difficult. I promise the next one will be better!
> 
> As always, if you see any issues, feel free to point them out to me. Thanks again for all the comments so far! I truly appreciate them and they always make my day a little bit brighter.
> 
> EDIT: I was really not in a good headspace when I posted this chapter, but I did anyways because I thought it would help clear the air, or my head, take some of the negative out or something. The comments I've received so far have been overwhelming and they mean so much to me. I'm going to use them as motivation for the next chapter. Thank you all so much for enabling me to feel better about my writing again. 
> 
> New fic blog: nuanta-fic.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter so far, at over 6k! I guess it was a good thing I split Jamie's POV across two chapters. 
> 
> I just want to take this opportunity to thank everyone for the absolutely amazing comments left on the previous chapter. They seriously mean so much to me and I kept going back and reading them while I worked on this one. They really gave me my motivation back. 
> 
> Enjoy this one!

 

_I can't have you and I'm only gonna do you wrong_

~

They don’t talk about New Years’, and Jamie tries to forget it ever happened. After all, they’d both been under the influence, and Tyler was totally smashed – he’d received a text from Tyler the next day about the hangover of epic proportions he was nursing, and the sickness that came along with it, so that’s pretty solid proof.

It’s impossible that Tyler had actually wanted to take Jamie home with him that night, impossible that he’d actually enjoyed kissing Jamie. Besides that, alcohol always made Jamie horny. It was just an awful combination of shitty timing and too much booze, and not something worth stressing over.

So, naturally, Jamie can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s just, he was so damn reckless and Jamie hates that he nearly screwed everything up again. He doesn’t know how he’s going to face Tyler next practice, what he can possibly say to excuse himself for making things weird.

That’s why it’s even more unnerving that neither of them says a word on the matter. Tyler greets him amiably, bats his eyes and flashes his trademark mega-watt smile in front of the guys and everything is completely normal – too normal.

They’ve got three games in the next four days so Jamie can’t afford to get snagged on the current state of affairs. He deliberately ignores the locker room chirps, refrains from speaking to Tyler about anything other than hockey, and that mollifies him, a little, makes it easier to concentrate on the ice and worry about playing his game.

It isn’t until they’ve settled down in their hotel room in Nashville that Tyler says something about it. They haven’t spent much time together away from the rink – when they were in Chicago it was off the tail end of a back-to-back and in a routine of eat-sleep-hockey – but now, Jamie’s hyperaware of Tyler’s presence in the bed beside him.

“You okay, Benny?”

Jamie blinks, unsure where this is coming from. “Um. Yes?” He peers over his tablet at Tyler, who’s looking at him, pensive.

“It’s just that, you haven’t really been talking to me.” Tyler’s words are measured, hesitant like he’s expecting Jamie to snap back.

Jamie inhales, opens his mouth, pauses. There’s no other way to spin this. He feels a pang of remorse that Tyler’s noticed. And what if he tells Tyler the truth? What’ll become of their deal, of them?

“You’re not going shy on me again, are you?”

Jamie’s thought process grinds to a halt. “Uh,” he says. “No?”

The corners of Tyler’s lips curve upwards, and he crawls over to the edge of his bed before swinging his legs over and kicking them back and forth like a kid in a car excited for a trip. “So, anything I can do for you tonight? You look like you need it.”

Jamie swallows, tongue suddenly too thick and heavy for words, hairs prickling at the nape of his neck.

Tyler smirks and looms into Jamie’s space, hovering over the bed. “Thought so,” he says, and for a fleeting instant Jamie is terrified that he’s gone too far, become too obvious and fucked everything up, but then Tyler continues, “Probably should lose these clothes, don’t you think?”

Relief bubbles up over the tension Jamie hadn’t realized was there and his body sags into the duvet. “Yeah, yeah, sure, we can,” he stammers.

When Tyler grins brilliantly at him, Jamie says a quick mental prayer and dives back in.

It’s what he wants, after all, and he’ll keep taking as long as Tyler’s offering.

~

Unfortunately, whatever sex magic Tyler used to quip about wears off, because they lose again in OT and then they’re off to Colorado. The morning of their game, the All-Star Game roster is revealed, and Tyler is the only Star on the list. The guys congratulate Tyler in the room before and after the morning skate, but Jamie keeps his distance.

He’s not quite sure what it is that’s twisting around in his belly. He’s proud of Tyler for all he’s done, grateful even, but the selection is a reminder of his own failure to rise to this year’s challenges. The first half of the season had been miserable, and Jamie’d dragged the team down with him with his inability to compartmentalize media and hockey. Admittedly, December had felt better, but the sluggish start had the ominous potential to cripple their hopes of making playoff ground, and two terrible months is unacceptable.

He and Tyler lounge on their beds back at the hotel. They should be taking their pre-game naps, but they’re both fiddling on their phones instead.

Tyler eventually breaks the silence. “Hey, man, sorry you didn’t get picked. You’ll be right there with me next year, promise.”

Jamie wants to laugh at that, but Tyler sounds genuinely apologetic, young and soft and almost guilty. “Not your fault,” he settles for. “I…I let the media pressure get to me. I don’t deserve to be there.”

Tyler stares at the ceiling when he speaks. Jamie watches the movement of his throat. “Well, then, I didn’t do a good enough job helping you.”

Jamie’s mind boggles. It’s utter lunacy that the onus would be on Tyler, that Tyler still holds himself accountable for Jamie’s mistakes. At the same time, it’s comforting, in a roundabout sort of way, that Tyler doesn’t blame him.

“No, you helped a lot,” Jamie says firmly. Tyler glances over at him, brow furrowed slightly. “With,” he waves ambiguously, “everything.”

Tyler nods, but his expression is thoughtful, concerned. “And,” he says tentatively, “is it getting better now? The stress?”

Jamie opens his mouth to answer yes, and then closes it again. Cause that wouldn’t all be true, is the thing. They’re still the only players out in the entire league. No one’s followed suit, even though several months have passed, even though some players have reached out to them, even though Jamie’s positive there are others. The spotlight’s still on them.

It’s tough to be completely inactive on social media, even for Jamie, and he likes to keep up with his friends and other celebs and such on Twitter and Instagram. For all his attempts to block the trolls, derogatory comments slip through – some people go as far as to tag him in their hate parades, which fucking sucks. He supposes there will always be haters, and when the compassionate messages far outnumber the mean ones (which, incredibly, is all the time), it’s not so horrible.

Reporters aren’t as persistent on the subject anymore as they slowly acclimate to the new situation, though whenever there’s a feature article on either of them the topic is bound to pop up in some extent. The guys have been nothing if not supportive, albeit the inappropriate jokes in the locker room. Things are beginning to feel almost normal.

Tyler’s been more than accommodating through the whole fiasco. First, he’d thrown himself headfirst into the mess, all in the name of protecting Jamie, of sharing the load and allaying some of the pressure. He’d then taken it even further by suggesting their benefits deal, leaving Jamie in control of the terms and the decision of when to end it.

All this, and Tyler’s never said a word of complaint. He’s selflessly given Jamie all of the power, but it’s not like captaining an NHL team; this type of leverage puts him on edge, despite the need for it. Sure, it had been a massive help thus far, but there’s something wrong about it now, something bleak that settles uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.

He rolls Tyler’s question around in his head a while longer, trying to piece his thoughts together and brush off the sense of impending doom.

“Yeah.”

~

They lose to the Avs that night, bumping their streak up to four. The guys commiserate at a bar around the corner from the hotel.

Tyler sits next to Jamie once he’s made his rounds chatting up all the guys. Before he can speak, though, Jordie steps between them and claps a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Baby brother, Seggy,” he says, nodding at them in turn. “Daddy wants to bring a girl back tonight. All right if I crash with you guys?”

“What? No, you can’t do that!” Jamie protests.

Jordie scoffs. “Oh come on, you guys can fuck around when we get home, you can wait one more day.”

“But we don’t have enough beds!” Jamie insists.

Jordie quirks an eyebrow. “You’re such a liar, Chubbs, I know your room has two beds instead of one.”

That’s when Jamie realizes that Jordie’s expecting them to share a bed while he gets the other one. Except that’s not how they are at all. Even when they hook up, they sleep in separate beds. They never sleep together. That would make things weird. That would –

“Fine, fine,” Tyler interrupts, sighing exaggeratedly. “I guess I’ll survive an extra night without getting it in me.”

Jamie’s heart rate spikes. “Tyler!” he hisses.

Jordie recoils. “Ew, Segs, gross, don’t say that shit in front of me!”

“You started it,” Tyler retorts.

Jordie rolls his eyes. “Whatever, just let me know when you’re heading back.” He releases them and heads over to the bartender.

Jamie whirls on Tyler immediately. “What did you do that for?” he seethes.

“What?” Tyler asks. “It’s just for sleeping. Unless there’s some other issue you’ve chosen not to disclose about why your brother can’t share a room with us for just one night?”

There is an issue, but Tyler’s already accepted the idea, so Jamie can do nothing but shake his head. Tyler said yes, so Tyler must not think this’ll make things weird. It’ll be fine, he tells himself. The beds are big enough to fit the two of them, as long as Tyler doesn’t sprawl like his dogs do. And even if he does, Jamie can keep to one edge and give Tyler the rest of the space. Tyler likes to wake up wrapped in blankets, which might pose a problem if Jamie wakes up cold in the middle of the night, but that’s not the end of the world. Hopefully. It’ll be fine.

It is decidedly not fine.

When they get back to the hotel later that night with Jordie in tow, Jordie and Tyler are both reading as tipsy and are play-wrestling their way into their room. Jamie’d stopped drinking after Jordie had come by to demand the favor, and he’s jittery, just wants to get into bed and close his eyes and pretend there’s nothing weird going on.

Jordie and Tyler rib each other even as the three of them take turns brushing their teeth and strip down to their boxers, until finally they clamber into bed.

Jamie’s twisting himself over to face the edge of the bed when he feels Tyler tugging his arm.

“Tyler, what –” and then he’s being turned over so that he’s facing Tyler, who scoots closer and worms around until he’s burrowed into Jamie’s chest, and they’re legitimately spooning.

Jamie’s breath hitches, his body seizes up, and he panics. He tries to nudge Tyler away, but Tyler grabs his arm again and brings it to rest across Tyler’s waist.

“Just go with it,” Tyler mutters, and Jamie has to practically lean into Tyler’s neck to hear him properly. It’s too close, they’re too close, this is –

“You guys are gross,” Jordie remarks from the other bed. Tyler lifts his arm to toss him the finger before settling back against Jamie again. “I swear, you’d better not try any funny business.”

“Nah, we’ll save that for when we’re back in Dally,” Tyler replies.

“And you’ll be wise not to mention a word of it to me,” Jordie shoots back, and then he flicks off the bedside lamp and the room descends into darkness.

Jamie’s trapped.

At first he’d hoped that maybe Tyler would withdraw once the lights were out, once Jordie couldn’t see what they were doing anymore, but Tyler stays. Tyler stays nestled against him and Jamie can feel how Tyler’s body relaxes, bit by bit.

It’s…nice.

Jamie hasn’t had intimate contact like this in so long, so he figures that’s the reason his body instinctively pulls Tyler’s closer, keeps him snuggled there. Warmth spreads from Tyler’s body to everywhere they’re touching and bleeds into the rest of him, and it’s peaceful and nice in a way Jamie’s craved for ages.

It’s just for sleeping, Tyler had said. It’s just this one time.

If that’s all this is, Jamie might as well indulge in it.

He buries his nose in the back of Tyler’s neck and lets the sound of Tyler’s light, even breathing lull him to sleep.

~

Tyler’s still cuddled in Jamie’s arms when Jamie wakes up the next morning, presumably before his alarm, but he can’t turn around to check because Tyler’s got his arm in a death grip. The room is quiet, save for Jordie’s soft snoring and the gentle fanning from the ventilation.

It takes Jamie a minute to realize that his body is hot all over, and that the heat is coming from the tight press of Tyler’s body against his. Droplets of perspiration are beading at his hairline, and they tickle when the draft hits him.

Jamie’s eyelids drift shut again and he lets himself bask in the warmth for a bit longer. He’s got Tyler all nice and snug in his arms like he belongs there, and he’s missed the feeling of someone next to him in bed. The last time he’d actually taken a guy home was…months ago, half a year, even. Far too long, in any case.

The best part of it all is that Tyler was the one who initiated. Tyler, who’ll push the charade as far as he pleases, and all to Jamie’s profit. Jamie kind of feels like a sleaze for taking advantage, but in the end, if Tyler wasn’t okay with it, he’d have said so, right?

He shifts slightly, and that’s when he becomes aware of his cock rubbing up against Tyler’s ass.

Jamie freezes. He wants to back away, put some distance between them, but Tyler’s clinging to him in his sleep, and Jamie’s got his morning wood stuck between his ass cheeks. He frantically tells himself this is normal, to be expected even, and attempts to convince himself that Tyler won’t hold it over him.

Tyler wriggles a little unconsciously. Arousal zips up Jamie’s spine, and _motherfucking shit_. He inhales sharply, caught between disgust and desire. He can’t do this. He’s making things weird. He’s –

Jamie wrenches his arm free and manhandles Tyler until he’s almost at the other end of the bed. He’s shaking by now, filled with horror and distress and he needs to calm his erratic breathing because this is so, so wrong.

As he’s catching his breath, Tyler stirs, disrupted by the motion. His face is half-mashed into the pillow and there’s a sliver of drool at the corner of his mouth, but he blearily opens one eye to look at him.

“Huh? What’s wrong?” It’s muffled in the fabric.

“Nothing, go back to sleep,” Jamie says, trying to keep his voice down, but it comes out oddly high.

Tyler’s forehead creases. “Jamie, what –”

Jamie snatches his phone off the bedside table and rummages through his overnight suitcase for a shirt and shorts, wincing when he accidentally slams the flap into the wall. Mercifully, Jordie doesn’t wake.

“I’m, I’m going for a walk,” he says hurriedly, stumbling into his clothes on his way to the door and trying to slip into the right sided shoes with only the margin of light filtering through the blinds. Sunrise, then, but he still doesn’t have a clue what time it is. “Bye.”

Jamie slumps backwards into the wall of the hallway the moment he’s got the room door closed behind him, pulse pounding. The hall is deserted, thank god, and the shorts are almost loose enough to mask his boner. His phone displays 7:30; guys are going to be getting up soon. He needs to get some fresh air, but this is Colorado, and it’s the middle of winter, and he’s in shorts. Ugh, Jamie’s a fucking idiot.

He hears movement from within the room, wonders if Tyler’s going to get up in pursuit, and books it for the elevator. Maybe a few reps at the gym will do it.

~

Tyler’s already packed and leaving the room with Jordie when Jamie returns, sweatier than he’d intended. There’s no time, so Jamie rinses off as fast as he can and throws his things together before joining the boys in the lobby.

They don’t sit together on the plane back to Dallas. Jamie likes his window seats while Tyler likes the aisles so he can lean over and socialize with whoever else is nearby, and it’s a system that works for them. This time, though, Jamie pitches his carry-on onto the aisle seat. Tyler gives him a brief look of too many mixed emotions for Jamie to identify and sits next to Cody instead.

“Chubbs, why’re you letting your man bother me?” Eaks gripes.

Jamie’s stomach roils and he thinks he might be sick. “Can’t keep him to myself all the time,” he says with what he hopes is a teasing grin. “I’m not some possessive douchebag.”

Which, of course, is a disastrous blunder, because that spurs a bunch of taunts about polyamory and gang bangs, all of which results in Jamie stubbornly staring out the window at the runway so no one sees his burning face. His one consolation is that even Tyler’s laughter sounds forced.

After the flight he goes home and does his own thing and watches Netflix on the couch, occupying his time with action-packed movies that don’t leave him time to ponder over recent events. He switches to NHL Network in the evening, watches some good hockey and focuses on the stuff he knows best.

Tyler shows up to practice the next day ghostly pale with a green tinge to his complexion, shivering all over, and is immediately sent home with the flu. Part of Jamie wants to go over to his place and fix him up some soup like the last time this happened, but that’s a bad idea. Tyler’s probably super contagious and they have important games to win. The Stars can’t bear to have both of their top players sick. So he pecks a quick _rest up and feel better_ text and attempts to put his mind at ease.

Tyler’s well enough to play in their game against Ottawa, but a series of unlucky icings while trying to defend a one-goal lead at the end of the game leaves them with almost a full two minutes of pure agony, but they kill off the clock and seal the victory. Jamie doesn’t know how Tyler manages to win his final draws, but damn if that’s not inspiring.

Of course, that’s when Jamie realizes that Tyler’s eyelids are drooping and he’s swaying in a struggle to stay on his feet. He tries to skate over to him, but the guys are all crowding around to praise Anders for the win and the next thing he knows, Tyler’s nowhere to be found.

Tyler ends up isolated from the team, receiving treatment for dehydration. Jamie’s chest aches to see it, and can’t shake off the strange feeling that there’s something horribly wrong.

He gives Tyler his space the next few days to recover – at least, that’s the excuse Jamie gives when Tyler texts him the day before a back-to-back lamenting that they haven’t hung out in a while. If he’s being forthright about it, Jamie can’t fathom why. He feels lost again, and the logic escapes him no matter how much he tries to pinpoint the source.

So, when Tyler insists Jamie come over for dinner and video games, Jamie can’t dispel the nervous energy, the feeling that he’s going to regret this decision.

It’s fine. It’s completely fine.

They chirp each other and kick and holler while fighting for Mario Kart dominance and order Chinese takeout and it’s honestly the best time Jamie’s had in a while. It feels like _them_ again, carefree and giddy like all of the stress from the past months was just a figment of Jamie’s imagination.

Tyler’s Yoshi zooms past Jamie’s Bowser at the very last second to steal first place, and Tyler turns to smirk at Jamie, cheeks pink and eyes sparkling with elation.

“Told you I’d whip your sorry ass!” he brags, bouncing on the sofa, and Jamie’s so absorbed in the way his entire face scrunches in delight that he can’t even find the heart to retort.

It’s lovely, is what it is, and it only makes Jamie want him more.

Whelp.

Before he can think to stop himself, he blurts, “Hey, can we –?” and Tyler’s face splits into a wicked grin and he sinks to his knees on the spot.

~

They win both games and they each rack up four points. Jamie’s pretty much accepted that things are fine, that it’s permissible to enjoy what he’s doing with Tyler as long as it’s not wrecking things – which it’s not, because they’re clearly great company around each other when they’re not hooking up. And when they are, well, Tyler has no qualms about going down on Jamie. Furthermore, there’s still no kissing, so they’ve either just reached the unspoken agreement not to talk about it, or Tyler was so wasted he doesn’t remember it. So it’s totally fine.

Before Jamie knows it, they’ve played their final game before the All Star break. The night before he’s set to fly back home to Victoria with Jordie for a much-needed relaxing vacation, Tyler invites him over, and Jamie doesn’t even hesitate. He won’t be seeing Tyler for a week; he might as well get one last blowjob to tide him over until Tyler’s return.

Tyler, like the devilish fiend he is, drags this one out, keeps Jamie on the edge of so close but not quite for what seems like hours, doing things with his lips and his tongue and fuck, he’s wound Jamie up so tight he can hardly breathe, gasping as Tyler swallows him down.

“Fuck, Ty, come on,” Jamie pants, muscles straining with the effort of not bucking his hips into Tyler’s mouth.

Tyler merely whines in response, taking himself in hand and stroking hard and fast and moaning all around Jamie’s dick like he can’t get enough of this. He comes first with a shuddering groan, and the vibrations send sparks shooting through Jamie’s entire body and he comes so hard he sees spots.

It punches all the air out of him and Jamie tips sideways onto the couch when Tyler’s licked him dry, heaving as he tries to recollect his faculties. When he’s finally capable of speech again, he wheezes, “Jesus. What got into you?”

Tyler’s still loopy after his own climax, so he just shrugs and climbs up next to Jamie. Time lapses by in silence, which is unusual for them, but Jamie’s not objecting, not when he’s so wrung out by Tyler’s antics. It’s not until Jamie pushes himself back into a sitting position that he realizes there’s a weight on his thigh, and that it’s Tyler’s head, and that Tyler is passed out.

Jamie gingerly prods Tyler’s shoulder. He’s folded awkwardly but he remains completely still. Jamie smiles to himself. Tyler looks young and peaceful, and he should really get a haircut because strands are curling in odd places and sticking out in others, so Jamie cards his fingers through it, gently massaging the scalp. Tyler hums and tilts into it, lashes fluttering, but barely. Jamie watches him, mesmerized by the delicate rise and fall of his chest, by the softness of the curls. It lures him into a state of half-dozing, serene and ethereal like there’s nothing else around them.

He’s jolted out of it by his phone buzzing, and he yanks his hand out of Tyler’s hair and carefully maneuvers a decorative pillow in the place of his leg. Once he’s standing again, he fishes through his pocket for his phone and finds a text from Jordie waiting, confirming the time he’ll pick him up to head to the airport.

Oh, yeah. Jamie hasn’t finished packing yet. He heads for the door, but stops and looks over his shoulder at Tyler, still conked out on the couch. It’s a shame, to leave this atmosphere behind, but if Jamie doesn’t leave now, he worries he might not ever.

Dimly he thinks there might be something wrong with this picture, but then again, paranoia’s always been his best friend.

~

Being home for a few days is amazing. Sure, Jamie’d seen his parents at New Years’, but now he gets to be with his parents and both his siblings and it’s nice to visit his hometown buddies as well. There’s just something about being back on the island that feels like a clean slate.

He and Tyler text constantly leading up to the All Star weekend, but then it’s a flurry of media activities for Tyler and Jamie’s phone goes silent. It sucks, and Jamie can’t shake off the sense that this isn’t right, that they should have been in Columbus together.

Jordie catches him checking his phone over dinner. “For crying out loud, Chubbs, it’s only been three days,” he says exasperatedly.

Jamie hastily shoves his phone back into his jeans, trying to keep the flush from creeping from his cheeks to his ears while he fruitlessly lies and claims it was Kory messaging him instead.

They watch the mock draft on TV, and Jamie tunnel visions to how Tyler’s blushing faintly like he does when he’s tipsy. Jordie cackles like a madman when the trade is announced, but Jamie’s struck by how long Tyler’s lashes look while he’s swapping jerseys.

It’s much of the same watching the skills competition and then the game itself, and Jordie won’t stop heckling.

“Oh my god, Jamie, can you stop moping? You’ve been looking like a lovesick puppy all weekend!”

“Have not!”

“Have you even seen yourself, bro?”

“I’m not moping, and I’m not lovesick.” Jamie plucks the popcorn bowl out of Jordie’s lap and shovels a handful into his mouth.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Jordie snorts.

Jamie’s mother gives him a sympathetic smile. “It’s all right to miss him, honey,” she says. “It just shows how much you love him, is all. It’s a good sign.”

And that.

“Shit!”

The popcorn bowl clatters against the tile as popcorn spills everywhere.

“Oh, come on!” Jordie complains, even as Jamie bends over to clean up. “That was almost a full bowl!”

Jamie’s body has gone numb. “I – shit,” he stutters. “I’m sorry, I didn’t –”

Their mom leaps to her feet. “I’ll make more, don’t worry,” she assures him. “Jordie, come help me fetch a garbage bag. Jamie, don’t worry about it, we’ll clean up.”

Jordie throws Jamie an incredulous _you’ve got to be fucking kidding me_ look behind her back, but retreats to the kitchen with their mom anyways, leaving Jamie standing alone in the family room, surrounded by pieces of popcorn.

Is his mother right? Does he love Tyler?

Jamie scrambles, feverishly searching his memories for evidence. Is it because of the hookups? They were great, and fuck if there wasn’t attraction there, but that was it, wasn’t it? He was allowed to relish them. He didn’t need to love Tyler to love the benefits. They were completely separate.

Except…

He thinks of just a few nights ago, the lightness in his chest when he’d watched Tyler sleep. He thinks of the security of holding Tyler in his arms in bed. He thinks of the passion in their kiss at New Years’. He thinks of how, for all these things, he’d yearned for more. He realizes, with a pang, that these desires are not within the scope of their arrangement.

He’s unexpectedly assaulted by the image of Tyler, sick in bed the day after they’d both been outed, earnestly vying for the sappiest romance of the century. How he’d beseeched Jamie to use the story of how Tyler discovered he loved Jamie when he was in Sochi to share with the media. Jamie’d been annoyed, sure, but it was also mildly hilarious and corny and dumb.

Jamie’s not laughing now.

These are the things he knows now: he misses Tyler, cares a lot about him, a lot more than he’s ready to concede. That l-word is…it’s too foreign and new to contemplate in depth. The very premise that he might feel this way towards Tyler is terrifying, sends chills down his spine and makes his pulse thump rapidly. This isn’t at all what Tyler’d signed on for when he endeavoured to shield Jamie from handling being out on his own. Hell, this isn’t what Jamie signed on for when he accepted Tyler’s aid.

This is not a good sign. This is a grim omen that could ruin things forever.

Jamie is so fucked.

~

They reunite in Montreal and Tyler pulls Jamie into a warm embrace that makes his heart do a ridiculous little flip that Jamie is absolutely ashamed of.

“Hey Jamie! Bet you missed me like crazy, eh?” Tyler wags his eyebrows and gives him a knowing smile, and Jamie’s gut drops, because is he really that transparent? Is this Tyler’s usual teasing, or is Tyler actually on to him?

“Who’d miss your ugly mug,” he says half-heartedly, and god, he’s so lame and he’s making things terrible already.

Tyler pats his arm. “Weak, Chubbs, weak,” he chuckles. Then he diverts his attention to bugging Jason, and Jamie breathes a sigh of relief.

Things only devolve from there. Tyler makes a show of giving Jamie bedroom eyes in front of the guys, and by the time they’re heading back to their hotel rooms after a team dinner, everyone’s expecting a loud, eventful evening from the two of them. Jamie’s misery knows no bounds.

“We should totally pretend to break the bed, that’d be hilarious,” Tyler’s snickering when they close the door behind them, and Jamie can’t help but freeze.

Tyler side-eyes him, frowning. “Dude, I was just joking.”

Jamie loosens. It’s not like he actually thought Tyler was being serious here, but his body is fidgety from the anxiety and he thinks even the tiniest, most insignificant things would set him off now.

Tyler must notice, because he says, “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. I just figured you would. And, well,” he gestures vaguely towards the hall. “Playing it up, you know.”

“I know. It’s fine.” Jamie’s throat is thick, and it’s tough to swallow, but he has to say something. Tyler’s got his number, Tyler knows Jamie wants this. He’s having difficulty deciding whether that’s because Tyler’s fulfilling their deal or if he sees right through Jamie now.

His only solution is to act like everything’s normal and hope for the best.

“I’ll get you first this time?” he proposes, and Tyler beams.

~

Jamie spends the entire Canadian road trip struggling to determine how to proceed with his recent discovery. Hooking up with Tyler is pure torture. He’s being tantalized with things he could have, and then when it’s over he’s left empty, unsatisfied despite the orgasms, because the reality is he can’t have them. It’s too tempting to beg for more, more than Tyler is willing to give, but having some of what he wants and not all of it is downright agonizing in his chest, an ever-present ache that festers and throbs beneath his ribs.

It can’t go on like this.

Most despicably, Jamie finds himself desperately hunting for hints of Tyler’s feelings, and it’s all too obvious that he’s never been interested in escalating things. The only times Tyler has ever shown any indication that he might truly care about this are when he’s drunk or overly tired, neither of which are reliable metrics, in Jamie’s painful experience. When Tyler’s alert, he’s down to business and that’s it.

It hurts to admit it, but by the end of the roadie Jamie’s concluded that he has to break things off. If he doesn’t cut it off soon, he’ll only end up making things worse for himself, and then making things weird with Tyler – the latter of which must be avoided at all costs. Maybe, if he and Tyler stop faking they’re in a relationship, he’ll be able to rid himself of these stupid delusions of something more and finally go back to normal.

He and Tyler are out, and the world hasn’t collapsed. They’re going to be okay. Jamie believes that, mostly. Now, he’s fretting over not screwing up the chemistry with his best friend and linemate for years to come, because that’s what’s really the risk here.

Now that Jamie’s chosen his course of action, all that’s left is to seize the opportune moment and execute – which, of course, is apparently an insurmountable task.

At first, Jamie’d planned on telling Tyler during their homestand, but then they lose both games and Jamie doesn’t want to add unnecessary drama to the locker room.

Then they fly to Buffalo and Tyler offers him another blowjob and Jamie hates himself for taking it, hates how gone he is over Tyler that all his inhibitions crumble in an instant, hates the way Tyler looks so beautiful splayed out before him when Jamie returns the favor – so he resolves to say something immediately following their next win.

They lose to the Sabres but beat the Rangers the very next day, and the guys are all exhausted so Jamie figures he’ll simply tell Tyler tomorrow in Boston. Then hang out with the boys all day and there’s no chance to talk in private until that night when they’re getting ready for bed.

They’ve both huddled under the covers, phones in hand, and Tyler’s closed all the lights. Jamie watches for a few minutes as Tyler taps away on some app, face illuminated by the screen. It gives his face a nebulous glow, and Jamie’s heart hammers.

“So.” Jamie deposits his phone on the nightstand and clears his throat. Tyler hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t look up. “We should talk. About our deal.”

“What about it?” Tyler asks casually, eyes still on his phone.

“Well.” Jamie swallows. “You said it was to help me deal with all the pressure, right?”

“Yeah…” Tyler says it slowly, drawing it out as if raising a question.

“It’s – it’s okay now. I think I feel okay.”

“That’s good, Jamie, really,” and Jamie can just barely see Tyler’s dimples make an appearance from the light of his phone.

“No, but.” Jamie wishes there was an easier way, because all this beating around the bush is getting him nowhere, but he can’t find his words. “I think we can stop now.”

That’s when Tyler pauses. His screen goes black and Jamie sees his outline shifting in the dark, hears the phone knock against the wood of the night table.

“Stop what?” Tyler asks.

Jamie rolls onto his back and takes a deep breath. “Everything. Pretending to be dating. The benefits thing. You said I could change my mind whenever. Well, it’s, that’s now. I’m going to be okay now, so there’s – there’s no point in continuing.”

“Oh.” Tyler’s voice is flat. “So that’s it? It’s over?”

Jamie nods, then remembers that Tyler probably can’t see him. “Yeah,” he confirms. “Thanks for – you know. Everything you’ve done.”

“Glad to have helped.” Tyler sounds impatient now, like he gets the message, but that could just be Jamie projecting.

The room is quiet for a moment, and Jamie’s overcome with the need to know for sure: “We’re good, right? You and me?”

“Of course,” Tyler replies. “Always.” Jamie thinks he might be smiling.

“Awesome.”

Tyler sighs heavily, in relief, no doubt. Jamie closes his eyes, letting himself sink into the mattress. Tonight, he can finally sleep knowing he’s done the right thing, knowing it’s for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should mention that I'm still trying to stick to the 2014-2015 season timeline as much as possible...so when Tyler is sick in this story, he actually got sick irl. Except, you know, I'm giving him more psychological reasons for his immune system to shut down. Oops? 
> 
> As always, your comments are so very much appreciated! 
> 
> New fic blog: nuanta-fic.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry this ended up taking so long! A few days after I posted the last chapter, my thesis defense date got scheduled, and so then I spent two weeks immersed in defense prep, and then I actually had my defense (it went super super well and I'm now a chemistry M.Sc. woot woot!!), and then I was in bed for like 5 days afterwards because of exhaustion and then getting sick, and then I had to complete my thesis revisions for official submission. 
> 
> But the good news is that's all done so I can finally get around to finishing this fic! It's not done yet but I'm really hoping for it to get done within the next week. Until then, enjoy this chapter and I hope it was worth the wait!

 

_I'm wishing I had what I'd taken for granted_

~

Tyler’s numb.

Normally, when someone drops a bomb on him, his brain goes into overdrive. He gets aggravated and fidgety, and excess energy all but pours out of him as he reacts viscerally and emphatically.

Now, his mind is completely blank. His mouth is open, and he wants so badly to scream, but no sound emerges. The blankets covering him are heavy and restrictive, suffocating his chest. It takes a herculean effort to exhale, and when he does, it’s rattling, like all his air’s escaping him and there’s no way to get it back.

Dimly, distantly, his thoughts are cataloguing all of the moments where Tyler had suspected, had _hoped_ , that Jamie’s feelings towards him were changing. They’re on the edges of his consciousness, but he’s too dizzy to grasp at any of them. They drift away, unattainable, impossible.

It’s over.

Jamie’s soft, barely-there snores ghost through the air from the bed next to his, so close and yet so far. Tyler’s throat is sore and his swallows are painfully hard. Jamie’s okay now, he’d told Tyler. He’s okay, and he doesn’t need Tyler, and tonight he’s going to sleep through the entire night, blissfully unaware that Tyler is so not okay.

Tyler squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on his breathing, but he can’t shake those images from his mind, all those times where Jamie gazed at him with his stupid cow eyes and Tyler was sure he’d seen something more flicker within them, something burning and caring and real. They weren’t real, didn’t mean a thing. What is real is the full body ache that starts in his chest and spreads through to his limbs, the sinking misery and horror and agony.

He sleeps fitfully that night, tossing and turning while Jamie slumbers peacefully in the other bed. The unfairness of it all just about kills him, the idea that Jamie gets to rest without a care in the world while Tyler’s right there suffering beside him. It’s too much. It’s so wrong.

Sunlight filters through the blinds long before Jamie’s alarm goes off, but Tyler’s awake all the same, exhausted, head throbbing and his throat feeling like it’s been stabbed. Of fucking course.

When the obnoxious ringing blares throughout the room, Tyler groans loudly and twists under the sheets, not ready to open his eyes.

“Segs? You up?” Jamie’s voice is light and untroubled. Tyler hates it, suddenly, on top of the swelling bitterness at his body’s betrayal.

He opens his mouth to answer Jamie, but all that comes out is a painful wheeze that then turns into a coughing fit. He hunches over, curling in on himself and drawing the blankets around him. He’s cold and shivery, there’s a fog over his brain, and everything hurts.

“Ty?” Jamie asks, alarmed. “Are you sick?”

Tyler nods, still unwilling to look at Jamie.

“But it’s Boston. You can’t be sick in Boston.”

Bile surges up in his throat. “You think I don’t know that?” he rasps.

Jamie instantly relents. “I know, I know.” There’s the sound of rummaging through his suitcase. “Okay, I’ll tell Coach you’re not practicing this morning. Rest up in bed and hopefully it’ll pass by the time this evening comes around. I’ll get room service to bring you some soup, okay?”

Tyler’s heart flutters a little, and he’s immediately disgusted with himself for it. “Kay.”

“Go back to sleep,” Jamie tells him. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Right. This is just Jamie, just how he is. Tyler should have known better than to fall for a good Canadian boy, to mistake his general sweet disposition and selflessness for something more. Jamie considers him his best friend, which honestly should be special enough. Then again, Tyler’s always been a selfish asshole.

Jamie is important to him. He can’t just let that slide because of a silly one-sided crush. It’s not right, and not fair to Jamie. Tyler nods his acknowledgement, hoping that Jamie’s looking, and tries to relax.

He does end up falling asleep, though he’s still pretty antsy, so it doesn’t do him all that much good. When he finally does open his eyes, Jamie’s gone and there’s a covered tray on the night table that smells of chicken noodle soup. Yeah, definitely accepting this gesture of goodwill.

The soup and rest help somewhat, and Jamie gives Tyler as much recovery time as possible. Once he’s back, Tyler’s throat has cleared enough to talk properly again, so they engage in casual conversation about the game tonight and other hockey-related affairs. Lindy stops by later in the afternoon to check up on Tyler, Tyler thinks he does a rather satisfactory job of convincing him that he’ll play. It is Boston, after all. It’s Boston, and beating his former team takes precedence over any other drama in his life.

With that mindset, Tyler’s able to put all of his focus into his game. His reaction time is shit and he’s out of breath a lot faster than usual, but Jamie’s two goals take the spotlight off of him and Tyler is more than happy to relinquish it to him. They win 5-3, and Tyler can’t help but grin at Jamie as he’s stepping off the ice for his requisite handshake. Jamie beams in return, and Tyler feels something settle within him, a little.

“Should we tell the guys?” Jamie mutters while they’re stripping off their gear in the locker room.

“Huh?” Tyler says absentmindedly, condensing his tape into a ball and chucking it at Jason across the room. He misses horribly, and the ball lands lamely on the floor while Jason shakes his head at him.

“Should we tell people we broke up, I mean,” Jamie says.

Tyler stiffens before he can stop himself, but he quickly rolls his shoulders back. “Uh, I guess we should,” he admits. “Media too, then? Get ‘em to shut up about us?”

“Uh,” Jamie says. “We don’t have to tell them, like, explicitly. I doubt that’d go over well.” His mouth twists. “But I, uh, feel bad lying to the guys.”

“Like we’ve been doing this whole time?” Tyler means for it to be a joke, but it comes out a bit harsher than he’d intended. Jamie winces, so Tyler hurriedly says, “I’m kidding, Chubbs, god, get that stick outta your ass.”

Jamie smiles this time, and Tyler’s relieved. “You wanna say something, say it,” he says. “Your idea, your call.” He knows Jamie will resent him a little for this, but Jamie asked for it and Tyler didn’t, so it’s only fair.

Jamie’s face falls, and Tyler stares pointedly at him until Jamie sighs and nods his assent. “I’ll talk to Coach first,” he says. Tyler shrugs and gives him a _do whatever you want, man_ look.

If he’s being honest with himself, Tyler still feels like crap, partly because of being sick and mostly because he’s still nursing his ridiculous heartbreak, but at least he gets a couple days to recover. He and Jamie still text a bunch, and Jamie lets him know that he spoke to management and that they agreed to keep it quiet from the media.

Jamie tells the guys after practice the day before they’re set to face the Panthers. Tyler sits back in his stall and tries to appear as friendly and comfortable as possible while Jamie fumbles through his speech, assuring the guys that nothing’s changed and they’re just going back to being the friends they used to be. Tyler punctuates that by throwing the snow from his skates in Jamie’s face and dissolving into giggles at the look on his face. Jamie grins and gestures across the room. “See guys, Seggy’s still an immature brat. No difference,” and the guys erupt into laughter.

Despite that, they’ve been just this side of careful with each other since breaking off the deal, and they haven’t hung out away from the rink at all. Tyler struggles to remember what things were like before they started pretending to be dating, what boundaries he’d pushed once they made their deal so he can ease off now, but everything came together so naturally that he can’t seem to dissociate them anymore.

He accidentally flirts with Jamie in the dressing room before warm-ups against the Panthers, and only realizes he’d slipped when Jamie freezes and his body goes tense all over.

“Whoops, sorry,” Tyler says airily, forcing an unaffected look while his insides writhe. “Got used to making these jokes, haha. You gotta admit, they were pretty hilarious.”

Jamie’s face goes red and he turns his attention to tying his laces, away from Tyler. “Yeah, real funny,” he mumbles darkly. Tyler has to close his eyes and breathe for a moment to block out the sensation of his stomach plummeting.

Once they’re on the ice, he loses himself in the speed of the game, in the crisp cut of his blades digging through the ice. He’s flying across the offensive blue line, the rush of cool air around him fueling him on, and then –

There’s contact, a blur, and everything’s spinning and the next thing he knows, he’s sprawled on the ice, and everything’s cold except for this flash of pain coming from his knee when he instinctively tries to get up.

Oh, shit.

Around him, swarms of green and white collide in scrums while Tyler concentrates hard on his breathing as he regains his bearings. Slowly, he’s able to push up from his left leg and stand, but he teeters, pain blossoming into something even deeper when he tries to put weight on his right.

The trainer gets to him and starts asking questions, and Tyler’s answering but his mind is racing. _It’s fine, I’m fine, I can skate off on my own, I just need to shake it off, that’s all_ , as if he can persuade his body that this is the case, but he’s coaxed off the ice without putting any weight on the injured leg, and even as he’s helped down the tunnel, he can barely step with his right foot.

It can’t possibly be that bad. It can’t.

He undresses and instantly knows that yeah, it is that bad, fuck. He’s swollen so much already, there’s nothing anyone can do to assess the damage yet. He’s given an ice pack and crutches and told they’ll follow up tomorrow, and that’s it, just like that his night is over.

He gets to watch the boys pack up and board the bus to the airport since they’ve got a back-to-back in Colorado, and he has to stay behind. It’s the shittiest fucking timing in the world, and there’s absolutely nothing that can possibly make it better.

~

Tyler gets evaluated the next day; it’s an MCL injury, so no surgery, thank fuck, but he’ll also be sidelined for three to six weeks. The worst part is he can’t even begin any treatments because the swelling hasn’t gone down enough yet. Rest, he’s told, is the best medicine for now.

And that, that’s just fucking dandy, because rest is not in his vocabulary.

It sucks even more because the guys are away in Denver and Tyler’s stuck by himself in Dallas, left to watch his team play without him on the stupid television, left to watch them lose miserably in his absence.

Objectively speaking, he knows it was a tough game for the guys, having lost three players last night on top of playing the tail end of a back-to-back, but Tyler can’t shake the feeling that he could have made a difference. He stretches from his spot on the couch and grimaces when his knee won’t cooperate.

Watching Jamie play with other linemates is weird. They don’t pass to him the way Tyler would; they don’t skate towards the same openings Tyler does. Jamie’s got that inane skill where he can make anyone he plays with look good, but it’s just not the same. It’s not as electric, not as fun – though that’s almost certainly because watching the game is much more boring than playing in it.

It takes Tyler an inordinate amount of time to realize that he’s jealous. Jamie is _his_ liney, _his_ travel buddy, _his_ best friend, _his_ lover –

Oh. Right.

A proprietary ache has taken residence in his chest, and it’s gross and wrong and Tyler tips his head back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling while he blinks hard and breathes out in controlled streams.

Jamie’s not his to play with anymore, now that he’s injured. Tyler doesn’t get to travel with him for road games, doesn’t get to room with him. He’s not even sure if he can call Jamie his best friend anymore after what they’d said in the room before the Florida game. Jamie’d sounded so bitter about Tyler’s mock flirting, like maybe he’d actually despised it all this time and was too nice to say anything, so of course Jamie would be happier without the fake relationship and the benefits that came with it.

Tyler gingerly twists his leg, but his mobility is shit and the motion is more painful than he’d anticipated. He can’t do much about Jamie being upset with him off the ice, but on it, they’ve got chemistry. It hadn’t magically disappeared just because things were fucked up between them. It’s something Tyler gets to keep, once he’s healed.

He resolves to do whatever it takes to get back in the game and playing with Jamie again as soon as he possibly can. That, at least, is something within his power. He clings to that sliver of hope, because really, it’s the only thing he can do.

He ends up sleeping on the couch that night, restless and frustrated and missing Jamie and hating himself for it.

~

Tyler wakes up the next morning to his phone ringing. He gropes around the cushions until he finds it, and answers without checking who it is.

“Hello?”

“Uh, Tyler? Did I wake you?”

Tyler swears that his heart doesn’t jump when he recognizes Jamie’s voice, because denial seems to be the best course of action. It also gets his faculties running pretty damn fast, and he sits up.

“Nah,” he lies brightly, a little too quickly. “What’s up?”

“Figured I’d check up on you, see how you’re doing.” Of course. Jamie’s just doing his captain thing. He’d do this for anyone. Tyler desperately tries to ignore the disappointment, because this is downright childish.

“Well, I can’t really do much right now,” he replies. “Gotta let the swelling go down, then treatments. Won’t be able to work out for the first week or so.”

“Ah,” Jamie says on a sigh. “That sucks.” His voice is breathy, like it always is in the mornings, but Tyler is assaulted by the image of Jamie, breathlessly gazing down at Tyler after he’d been blown.

Tyler coughs loudly and rubs the heel of his palm over his eyes. “Yeah, well, gotta do it if I want to come back soon. You looked a little lost without me there last night.” It’s a dumb joke and he knows it, but he doesn’t really know what else to say.

Jamie doesn’t laugh. Instead, there’s silence on the other end of the line, and Tyler’s filled with dread. “I’m, uh, I should get going. Catch you later, Segs.”

“Later,” Tyler echoes blankly as the call cuts. He’s motionless for a few seconds, and then he flings his phone into the couch.

~

Lindy calls him later that afternoon, and Tyler keeps up a spirited chat about his goal of returning on the short end of the injury timeline. He goes to meet with doctors and receive his first injection, which is excruciating beyond belief, but if it’ll help the healing process, Tyler will accept it willingly.

All in all, the day leaves him feeling nice and optimistic. The sentiment carries over to the next day, too – that is, until Tyler notices the new updates on the Stars’ website.

There’s a video of Lindy talking about him, which is fine, but there’s also an article quoting Jamie.

_“I have had a chance to talk to him. He could be doing better. He’s a little down. He’s having a great year and he is such a big of this team. It’s tough to lose a guy like that.”_

What.

He’s dialing the number before he even registers he’s doing it, and the moment Jamie answers he’s snarling, “What the fuck, Chubbs?”

“Huh?”

Tyler draws a breath. “The fuck did you say that about me?”

“Segs, what are you talking about?” Jamie sounds legitimately bewildered.

“Why’d you tell them I _could be doing better_ and I was _a little down_?”

“Because it’s true?” Jamie’s tone is incredulous now. “Are you seriously freaking out about that?”

“It’s not!” Tyler snaps. “Ask Coach, he spoke to me and he says I was fine and then you go and tell people I’m not? What the actual fuck?”

Jamie snorts. “Well, maybe you do a good job fooling other people, but I know you better than that, come on. You’re fucking miserable because of that injury, don’t lie to me.”

“It’s not the injury.” The words come out harsh before Tyler has the chance to rein them in, and he immediately regrets them.

“Yeah, okay,” Jamie scoffs.

The bitterness is bubbling up inside of him, threatening to escape, and Tyler reels, his free hand clenching into a fist. He can’t possibly tell Jamie the truth.

“What, you think I’m lying?” he says. “You’re the one who just claimed to know me so well.”

“Tell me what the problem is, then,” Jamie retorts.

It’s a challenge, and Tyler’s shaking; his nerves are on fire.

“You’re the problem,” he blurts, and the moment the words are out he’s clapping a hand over his mouth because no no no no no, this is not at all how he meant it and now he’s gone and screwed everything up, like he always does –

“All right then, Segs, I’ll leave you the fuck alone if that’s what you want.” Jamie’s words are measured, clipped. “And, for the record? I can manage fine without you.” Then he hangs up.

Tyler curls into a ball, shuddering violently as he tries to stop hyperventilating.

~

Jamie gets the first hat trick of his NHL career the night after, and Tyler’s sick to his stomach.

~

When the guys get back to Dallas, Tyler greets them when they arrive at the arena for the practice he can’t join them in. Jamie barely manages even a curt hello, evading eye contact, and Tyler’s throat constricts miserably while he maintains a cheery facade and laughs with the others.

Jason notices, because of course he does, and he suggests he and Tyler get burgers together once practice is done. Tyler makes up some lame excuse so as to avoid discussing the issue, because he’s feeling way too off-kilter for that kind of conversation right now. He’s able to put it off for a few more days, but then he’s forced to watch the guys get slaughtered by the Sharks and Jason refuses to take no for an answer. They go for a light lunch ahead of their game against Detroit, and Jason is a nosy little fucker when he wants to be, but Tyler’s too tired to resist anymore.

“So what’s going on between you and the captain? Post-breakup issues?” Jason presses.

Tyler shrugs. “Something like that,” he grumbles, opening his mouth wide for another bite to spare him a more detailed response.

Jason rolls his eyes and waits for Tyler to finish chewing before asking, “You guys gonna be able to play together once you’re better?”

“ _I’d_ like to, but Chubbs seems intent on proving he’s better off without me.”

Jason cackles, long and loud as if that's the most absurd thing in the entire world, while Tyler stares at him, utterly confounded.

“Oh my god, Seggy, he spent the whole trip moping over you.”

“He did what?”

“You heard me.” Jason looks smug, and Tyler has to wonder what his own face looks like. “Seriously, you should just talk to him. And don’t say he doesn’t want to talk to you,” he adds, when Tyler opens his mouth to protest. “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re definitely wrong.”

Tyler shakes his head, but Jason stares him down until Tyler can’t take it any longer. “Okay, okay, I’ll try to talk to him soon. Don’t you have a game tonight to focus on?”

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” Jason grins. “So, you gonna be getting the bird’s eye view with Pevs again tonight?”

They spend the rest of their time talking about hockey, and Tyler feels marginally safe again. Once he’s back home though, killing time before he has to be back at the arena, the anxiety resurfaces. It’s an itch he can’t scratch, sending chills down his spine all the way to his extremities, and there’s a roiling sensation in his gut that feels like he’s perpetually sinking. It’s awful.

The minute he even thinks of confronting Jamie, his heart beats rabbit-quick and he squashes that flat. Now’s not the right time, absolutely not, but maybe after...

But then the guys suffer a devastating OT loss and they’re on a plane for another roadie that very night, and it’ll be another four days before Tyler can see Jamie properly again.

Tyler curls up in bed that night, clutching a pillow tightly and wishing it was Jamie’s warm, broad body instead, wishing he would wake up the next morning and be magically healed, and all evidence of all his monumental fuckups erased from existence, and that Jamie would smile at him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next chapter *should* be the last one, unless I decide to split it in two while/after writing it. We'll see. I promise there will be a happy ending. (Update: I'm splitting it in two.)
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the wonderful comments. They honestly make me so happy and they motivate me to keep writing more. :)
> 
> New fic blog: nuanta-fic.tumblr.com


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so you know those moments where you think everything's going to be smooth sailing and then life decides, "Nah, bruh"? That's what happened to me. I honestly thought this would have been out two weeks ago, but alas. It's here now. Thank you so much for your patience and for sticking with me throughout this fic.

 

_I'm sorry for everything, oh, everything I've done_

~

A week ago, Jamie couldn’t possibly fathom a way for things to get worse. Four straight losses later, he knows better. 

Tyler’s injury stung, yeah, but Jamie was determined to support him through it. Apparently, Tyler didn’t want that.

Jamie figured he could shoulder the burden of leading the guys in points himself instead, and he mostly had. Apparently, even ten points in six games wasn’t enough to earn the team the wins they so desperately needed.

The situation is dire, so they don’t even get an off day when they get back to Dallas. Jamie works and sweats until he can’t anymore, all the while taking notice when Tyler’s training at the gym, progressively intensifying his workouts each day. Jamie unwittingly makes eye contact several times, and Tyler looks like he wants to say something, but in the end he turns away.

Jamie exhales heavily and reverts his focus to his own exercises. Tyler’d made it obvious that Jamie was nothing more than a problem in his life, so Jamie had immediately backed off and acquiesced to his demands. It made his gut roil and his heart clench, but what else could he do? He’d honestly thought Tyler had been okay with their deal. Tyler had been so accommodating. Had Jamie been too transparent? Had it made Tyler uncomfortable? He wishes he’d known it had been such a bother. Maybe, if he hadn’t been so ignorant, they’d never have let it get this far, never have let it get to the point where Jamie’s attachment risked screwing up their friendship.

Ending the charade was supposed to make them both feel better. They were supposed to go back to being best friends on and off the ice. For a few days, it seemed like the transition would be seamless, like it would be easy for Jamie to get over his dumb crush. But then Tyler basically declared he was pissed off at Jamie, and things spiraled from there, out of control.

If Jamie had known this would destroy their relationship, he would never have agreed to pretend to date each other. It’s bad enough that he can’t have Tyler the way he wants; losing him altogether is like living hell.

It’s like a part of him is missing. The chemistry and camaraderie he had with Tyler is gone, and Jamie’s grown so accustomed to it that the void left in its wake is a black hole, irreplaceable by anyone else.

Jordie, curse him, confronts Jamie over coffee in the kitchen the morning after they squander a two-goal lead and lose to Colorado in shootouts.

“You and Seggy need to talk your shit out,” he states. “This moping and avoiding each other you’re both doing is getting beyond ridiculous, and it’s hurting the team.”

“How is it hurting the team?” Jamie snaps. “He’s not even playing or skating with us.”

Jordie practically glowers. “Dude, that’s fucking brutal. I thought you loved making sure your teammates were looked after.”

Jamie shrugs. “The doctors are treating him fine. He’s ahead of schedule. What more do you want?”

“I want my brother and teammate to get their heads out of their asses and fucking talk to each other,” Jordie retorts. “You think no one else has noticed? Daddy’s fucking pissed, and you can bet the others are too.”

“Daddy needs to mind his own business.”

“Yeah, well, it’s our business when it’s hurting the team, Chubbs, and it’s fucking hurting us. You’re so hung up over this that you can’t even lead us like a proper captain.”

All at once, Jamie’s insides turn ice-cold. “What did you say?”

“I’m calling it like it is,” Jordie says calmly. “You might be putting up points, but you’re not leading us. You of all people should know better than to let this stuff interfere with your fucking job.”

Jamie’s mug slams on the counter, his entire arm shaking. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that. You have no right, you have no clue –”

But Jordie just looks at him pointedly and Jamie hates it, hates how composed he is, how it’s almost as if Jordie’s trying to wrangle the truth out with his eyes, and it’s too much, it’s –

Jamie releases his mug from a death grip and storms upstairs to his room.

~

When they lose again at home to the Ducks and Jamie fails to put up any points for the second game in a row, he knows that the damage is done, and his brother was terribly right. They’ve lost six straight games now, all without Tyler, all with the team’s two top players not speaking a word to each other.

Jamie feels unclean no matter how much he showers, like there’s dirt all over him that he can’t scrub off even if he rubs the bath sponge over his skin so much it goes red and raw. It goes deeper than that, though; there’s a persistent ache beneath his ribs and a foul swirling sensation in the pit of his stomach.

It can’t go on like this, he thinks miserably. They can’t just keep evading each other and not talk about this. If Jamie’s done wrong by Tyler, he needs to know how, so he can make sure he doesn’t repeat it. Even if Tyler ends up hating his guts or something, it’s better to know, better to try to find a way to compromise and not jeopardize the team’s success and their careers. Jamie truly believes Tyler would at least agree with him there, even if everything else goes to shit.

After practice, Jamie spends some extra time in the weights room so that he can catch Tyler when he leaves the ice from his rehab skate. Tyler’s about to walk past him over to the dressing room, but Jamie grabs his arm.

Tyler flinches and yanks himself free, and Jamie flushes instantly.

“Sorry,” he stammers, and the rehearsed speech he’d prepared in his head flees from his consciousness before he can grasp it. “I, uh. Wanna grab lunch?”

Tyler eyes him carefully, evidently wary. “What’s the play here?”

Jamie shakes his head. “None. Just thought it might, you know, be nice.” Tyler raises an eyebrow. Jamie meets his eyes, praying Tyler doesn’t mistake their sincerity.

Tyler’s silent for a long time, until Jamie’s face is burning. “Okay,” he says finally. “I’ll be ready in twenty.” He sidesteps Jamie towards the lockers.

‘Take your time,” Jamie calls faintly after him. He watches Tyler’s retreating back, suddenly aware of the chills coursing down his spine.

~

True to his word, Tyler joins him in the parking lot just over fifteen minutes later, hair still wet from the shower. Jamie stares at a droplet of water descending from a stray curl a moment too long; Tyler clears his throat and Jamie steps back.

“Uh, sorry.” Jamie musters a hesitant smile. “Chipotle? My treat.” As far as peace offerings go, he hopes this one is enough.

Tyler grins back, though it’s closed-lipped, and Jamie’s struck with a stupid little pang of regret that he couldn’t coax out one of Tyler’s genuine smiles, with too much teeth, because those are the ones that make his heart flutter – so, maybe it’s for the better.

“You still know what I like,” Tyler comments lightly.

Jamie rolls his eyes and opens the driver’s door. “You don’t let anyone forget what you like,” he mumbles, and there, there’s a flash of white, but he turns his attention to the wheel. “Come on, get in.”

Jamie drives them in silence. Admittedly, he’d wanted to use this time to talk, but he’d just promised Tyler there was no hidden trap to this lunch date. Still, if they can be on decent terms with each other for an hour or so, maybe he won’t need to mentally kick himself too much.

When they arrive, Tyler abruptly says, “Let’s take it to go? My place?”

Jamie stutters, unprepared for the reciprocated show of hospitality. “Uh, what about your car?” He’d guessed he could drop Tyler off at the rink afterwards so that Tyler could drive back home. Tyler inviting him over was such an improbability that he hadn’t considered it at all.

Tyler shrugs. “You can pick me up tomorrow before morning skate,” he says, nonchalant, though Jamie notes how his gaze slips from Jamie’s face to his chest.

It’s not just a suggestion, Jamie realizes. He’s asking a favor.

A flicker of hope sparks in his chest, hope that maybe things aren’t as broken as he’d originally assumed, and maybe he nods his head a little too vigorously when he vehemently answers, “Yeah, sure.”

They end up eating on the couch in front of the TV while Tyler flips through stations, eventually resigning himself to old episodes of Seinfeld on Netflix. They sit on opposite ends – away from each other, but not so distant that it’s weird, and they chuckle at the appropriate moments but otherwise eat quietly. It’s startlingly comfortable, though Jamie’s on edge all the same, like they’re in a precious glass bubble that could shatter with just the tiniest crack.

Once they’ve finished, Tyler suppresses a cough and says, “So.”

Jamie tenses; he can’t help it. “So?” he echoes.

Tyler’s next words come so fast, all on one breath, that they almost sound like one giant word, sentences jumbled together. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you over the phone you didn’t deserve that I shouldn’t have gotten worked up over it.”

“Oh.” Relief washes over Jamie; he didn’t think they were going to talk about that. “No, it’s fine, I shouldn’t have said something like that in the first place.” He ducks his head. “Not a smart media answer.”

It still nags at his brain though, the fact that Tyler had followed that up with, _It’s not the injury. You’re the problem_. Like Jamie was a parasite he needed to get rid of for the sake of his well-being. And that. That hurt more than the decision to attempt to abandon his affections for Tyler.

“I should have called things off sooner, I know,” Jamie continues, staring firmly at his feet and wringing his hands together. “I let things go too far, and it fucked with you, and that wasn’t right.”

Tyler inhales sharply, and Jamie looks up, but Tyler’s eyes are fixated on the screen. Jamie watches him run a hand through his hair, stamping down on the desire to have that hand sifting through his own hair instead.

“N-no, that’s, I shouldn’t have let it get to me.”

“You’re allowed to feel differently,” Jamie says, and he means it, even if it hurts, even if his heart is like lead. “I can’t fault you for that.”

Tyler sighs audibly, now scratching at his stubble. Then he cranes his neck to face Jamie. There’s something... _off_ about his expression, but Jamie can’t quite peg what it is. Maybe he’s still struggling with the prospect of his best friend having a hopeless crush on him. It’s not bros at all, and Jamie knows how much Tyler loves his bros, and not in a _love_ -love way.

“I don’t want to stop being friends because of this,” Tyler blurts, and this time it’s Jamie’s turn to sigh, the stiffness draining from his shoulders.

“Me neither,” he says fervently. “That would suck more.” Tentatively, he tries for a joke. “And we kind of have to play hockey together.”

Tyler snorts. “I should have known, you only like me for my sweet hockey skills.” He laughs self-deprecatingly.

Jamie doesn’t know how to interpret that, so he hastily adds, “But I mean, you’re pretty okay, apart from the hockey.”

“Don’t hurt yourself with words, Chubbs.”

Jamie brushes him off with a wave of his hand.

“So, um.” Tyler sounds shy all of a sudden. “I know you’re probably tired after today’s practice.”

Jamie’s stomach lurches unpleasantly, but he recognizes the dismissal. Tyler probably just needs a bit more time to himself before they can truly go back to normal. He’d be lying if he claimed this wasn’t disappointing, but it could have ended so much worse, so Jamie reckons he might as well take this minor victory.

“Yeah,” he says, pushing himself off the couch. “Yeah, I should probably take it easy for the rest of the day. I’ll text you tomorrow?”

“Sounds good, man.”

“Cool. See you.”

Jamie heads for the door and Tyler doesn’t accompany him, but that’s okay. Things are going to be okay. Things are going to quit being weird. They’re going to go back to how they were, before Jamie fucked up and got himself outed and they hatched this fake relationship scheme. It’ll be fine.

As he’s driving the couple of blocks back to his place, Jamie can’t stop thinking about Tyler, and his discomfort with Jamie’s feelings for him. It’s so much more painful than he’d expected it to be, even if he saw it coming, and he has to take some deep breaths and swallow hard to snap himself out of it. He’s been granted a second chance, an opportunity to fix things between him and Tyler, and damn it, he can’t let it slide. That takes precedence over his feelings. Selfishness never got him into anything but trouble.

The best he can do is exhibit as much self-control as he can, carry on with Tyler as usual, and try to squash out any inappropriate thoughts.

So after he jerks off that night to the memory of Tyler blowing him, he bangs his head repeatedly on the pillow, because there’s absolutely no excuse for him to lament his empty bed, and this is going to be a lot more difficult than anticipated.

~

Tyler’s wearing nothing but boxers when Jamie arrives at his house the next morning, but Jamie had deliberately given himself an extra half hour for this exact reason. Tyler does let him in, though, even has coffee brewing in the kitchen, so Jamie helps himself to a mug while Tyler gets ready upstairs, and tries not to fantasize about stroking down Tyler’s abs.

Once Tyler’s suitably dressed, he returns to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee himself. They’ve got time, so they lean over the island counter across from each other with their drinks. Jamie’s sufficiently awake, but he knows that Tyler needs the caffeine boost to be properly functional.

It’s as if they’re in that fragile bubble again, though, so Jamie drinks and keeps his mouth shut, not wanting to risk accidentally ruining things, even though he has no idea what exactly he’d be ruining at this point.

That’s when Tyler sets his mug on the marble and locks eyes with Jamie. Jamie stares back, trying not to blink too rapidly.

“I know we just had this talk yesterday,” he starts, and Jamie’s heart sinks. “But I need to ask you something.”

A lump has formed in Jamie’s throat; he can’t speak. He nods once, pulse hammering in his ears, because Tyler’s undoubtedly going to interrogate Jamie about his gross infatuation with him, and Jamie really just wishes he could forget and get over it, wishes the urge to wrap Tyler in his arms would vanish, because it’s going to make things awkward, and he’s got to make it stop.

Tyler folds his arms over his chest, but his cheeks are pink and he’s obstinately avoiding Jamie’s eyes now. “Look, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but Daddy keeps harassing me about it and I need to shut him up.”

“Okay...?” Jamie is officially stumped as to where Tyler could be going with this now, because Jason is unpredictable as hell sometimes, and yeah Jordie said he’d been mad, but how is he even involved in anything?

“And I mean, he’s got a point,” Tyler concedes.

“What point?”

“How come he goes and tells me you were moping over me the entire road trip but then you go and tell me we don’t feel the same way?”

Jamie startles. “Wait, he said what about me?”

“He said you were moping.” Tyler meets his gaze with a challenging look, even with his cheeks tinged with color.

“I wasn’t _trying_ to mope, I was –” Jamie stumbles over a protest, but gives up with a long sigh. Maybe Jordie had been right about the rest of the team being affected by this after all. At this point, there’s literally no reason to be dishonest.

“I was upset we were fighting,” he confesses. “I thought breaking things off would make things easier for us, and they only made them worse.”

Tyler curls in on himself, a little, and Jamie winces. “So you really do just want to go back to being friends, then?” Tyler asks quietly.

Jamie nods. “I don’t want to fuck things up between us anymore. I swear I’ll get over it, I’ll be okay with just –”

“Wait, what?” Now Tyler’s the one looking utterly bewildered.

“With just being friends,” Jamie explains impatiently. “I’ll take it, honestly, it’s better than nothing and –”

“What the fuck?” Tyler says incredulously.

“What?”

“You said you felt differently from me!” Tyler exclaims.

Jamie frowns. “Well, yeah,” he says. “You were just trying to help me out as buddies and I went and screwed it up by wanting more –”

“You fucking asshole!” It explodes out of Tyler, and his whole face is red and his body is trembling with some kind of fury.

Jamie’s a deer in the headlights. He has no clue where this is coming from, no clue what to say to this. He simply stares, mouth agape, as Tyler rages on.

“Fucking clueless idiot, here I am trying my hardest not to freak you out with my feelings and then it turns out all this time you felt the same? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Jamie has to hold on to the counter with both hands to steady himself from the wave of dizziness as his worldview drastically shifts. “Tyler,” he says weakly. This is all too much. It can’t be real. It’s too much hope. It’s too much –

Tyler doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He drags them over his face, rakes them through his hair, claws at his beard, fists them at his sides, crosses them, drops them again – all while his eyes frantically search Jamie’s.

Tyler storms around the island until he’s standing directly in front of Jamie, eyes blazing, and they render Jamie immobile. Then Tyler’s tipping his head into Jamie’s chest and pounding on it with both fists.

“I can’t believe you,” Tyler breathes as his shoulders sag. “Fucking asshole.”

Jamie doesn’t try to prevent Tyler from hitting him; it doesn’t actually hurt, for one thing, and, well, he’s beginning to think that maybe he might deserve this. Mostly thinks he’s got a lot of catching up to do, but his mind has gone numb.

He does, however, manage to croak, “This always how you talk to people you like?”

That one earns him a legitimate punch, and he yelps at the contact. Tyler’s beaming at him now in earnest though, that wide, toothy grin that Jamie knows and loves so much, and he grins helplessly back.

Tyler opens his mouth, and Jamie’s captivated by the way his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “I’m gonna –” he starts, and then he closes the space between them for a kiss.

Jamie instinctively gathers Tyler in his arms, keeping their bodies pressed together, and Tyler melts into him, fingers crooked in the front of Jamie’s shirt, squeezing tightly. Tyler’s lips are soft and warm and slightly wet, and god, Jamie’s never tasted anything sweeter. He brings a hand up to card through Tyler’s hair, to angle his head the way he likes. Tyler lets out a whimper that Jamie eagerly swallows, head spinning, because this. This is everything he’s wanted.

He’d still dreamed of kissing Tyler after New Year’s, craved to feel it again, the way Tyler’s body gave in his arms, though he’d been too stubborn to accept it. Now, he has it again, and it’s better than he remembered, better than anything he could ever imagine. It’s Tyler, wrapped in his embrace, whining low, kissing him because he wants to, because he needs to, and Jamie revels in it, deepens the kiss and takes as much as he can, everything Tyler’s offering.

He’s jolted back by his phone buzzing violently on the counter. Tyler’s grip loosens, though he doesn’t let go, glancing between Jamie and the phone with blown pupils, flush high on his cheeks, hair in disarray.

Jamie guiltily picks up his phone. It’s an email, nothing important, but his euphoria from kissing Tyler subsides when he notices the time.

“We have to get going,” he says, as apologetically as possible, hoping Tyler understands how much this means to him, how much he wishes he could shut out the world around them kiss Tyler until his lips are raw, and longer.

Tyler nods slowly, pulling away. “Yeah.”

“I would,” Jamie assures him hurriedly. “I would,” he says again, because he doesn’t know how else to convey it.

Tyler gives him a small smile, face lilting and young. “I know. I know.”

Mollified, Jamie leans in and gives him one last quick peck on the nose. Tyler’s entire face scrunches up and Jamie can’t help but laugh at him. When Tyler produces a ridiculous giggle, Jamie kisses him on the mouth. He lets himself kiss Tyler some more, but then he finally wrenches himself away and guides Tyler to the door with a gentle hand on his wrist.

Tyler intertwines their fingers, and Jamie’s heart soars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this kind of marks the end of the story! Well, I mean, there is one more chapter coming, but it's going to be more of a sexy coda anything else (along with some epilogue-esque tying up of loose ends). I also probably won't get to it until after NaNoWriMo is over, but in the meantime I hope this is enough. I wanted to give this a happy ending with lots of promise, and I think I've managed at least that much with this chapter. 
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments and the love; you're all fantastic!
> 
> New fic blog: nuanta-fic.tumblr.com
> 
> Update 13/03/2016: The fic is finished (took months, but it's finally done) and has been for a couple of weeks now. However, editing sucks and life keeps happening. I'm hoping to get it posted by the end of the month. So sorry to be taking so god damn long with this, but it's coming, I promise!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh okay wow, this is what, four months later? I'm so sorry. So much has been going on and I had so much trouble stringing even a sentence together whenever I tried to work on this. The good news is that while things were really rough for me for a while, I got the job I wanted, and things are moving in the right direction. I finally had my first full me-day of 2016 today and blew through editing this so that I could finally post it. I also had an epiphany while writing of a new scene to add to the end, but that deserves its own chapter, so I bumped the total up to 11. Oops? 
> 
> Shoutout to Madi for taking a look at this chapter and the next, and for all her amazing commentary throughout this fic. (I still have the text messages saved.) <3
> 
> Anyways, thanks for sticking with me, and I hope this was worth the wait. :)

 

_oh, love, can you hear me?_

~

Tyler scores twice in his first game back, and Jamie helps set him up. It’s been ages since Jamie felt this elated, regardless that they end up losing. He thinks it might have something to do with the fact that they have a travel day and a day off tomorrow, which definitely means tonight will be a good night.

Even though Tyler had been given the okay to travel and skate with the team at the start of the road trip, Jamie’d insisted on being careful, despite Tyler’s protestations that he was fine and his knee wasn’t at risk from any bedroom-related activities. Tyler was a menace when he wasn’t getting what he wanted, though, so Jamie had eventually conceded that they could at least sleep together.

(It hadn’t required much convincing, in the end. The very night after they’d worked their shit out, Tyler all but dragged Jamie to bed with him at his place, and well, Jamie’s resolve was long gone by then. They’d been sleeping in a mess of warm, tangled limbs every night since, lazily trading kisses until they fell asleep.)

The team goes out to a pub half a block away from their hotel that night, crowding into the largest booth. Jamie ends up squashed between Jordie and Tyler on the edge. Tyler keeps nestling into Jamie’s side, which is kind of understandable given how crammed they are, but it elicits knowing glances from Jordie nonetheless, and Jamie’s cheeks heat up.

Part of him wants to wrap an arm around Tyler’s shoulders to hold him close, but he tries to exhibit some self-control in front of his teammates like he used to. Belatedly, he remembers that this isn’t like before, and that he’s allowed to get close to Tyler in public – he’s allowed to do what he wants, with no fear of the consequences.

They’re together now – really _together_ – and there’s a quiet sort of satisfaction that comes from knowing whatever they do now is real, and it means something.

And there’s nothing quite like the glow on Tyler’s face when Jamie reaches out and guides him in.

“PDA alert!” Eaks jeers loudly, interrupting all chains of conversation at the table, and the boys hoot and holler. Jamie’s face burns, but he resolutely maintains his grip when he sees Tyler flipping them off.

“Let the poor guy be, he’s just making sure Seggy doesn’t run off and leave him again,” Jason chortles with a wink. Jamie grimaces at him.

As it turned out, Jason and Jordie had conspired to make sure he and Tyler straightened things out – properly – and were then adamant, once they got together, that they were owed an expensive meal. This had all been gleefully explained to Jamie over beers a few nights ago, but Jamie was stubbornly evading fulfilling that demand, which was naturally earning him some relentless teasing instead.

It’s fine. Jamie will endure any and all of Jason’s taunting so long as Tyler’s by his side.

At one point, most of the guys ditch the booth in favor of either shots at the bar or some rounds of pool, and Jamie’s left alone with Jordie while Tyler’s presumably fetching them some more beer.

“So,” Jordie says, startling Jamie from watching Tyler’s retreating back. “It’s good that you finally fixed up. You guys seem happier this time around.”

Jamie quickly switches from smiling in spite of himself to rolling his eyes. “That’s cause it’s real this time.”

Jordie snorts. “As if it wasn’t real before.”

Jamie gnaws at his lip, the realization of his blunder catching up to him. At this point, though – there’s no harm in telling Jordie the truth.

So he looks Jordie directly in the eye and says, “Exactly.”

Jordie scoffs, but Jamie holds his gaze firm, and he can pinpoint the precise moment in which Jordie registers that he’s not joking from the way his eyes go round and his jaw drops, and then the next moment in which it morphs into outrage, and okay, shit, maybe this was a bad idea after all –

“Jamie!” And then Tyler’s tugging on Jamie’s arm, pulling him out of the booth (“You gotta come try this crazy shot with me, come on!”) and Jamie willingly abandons ship as he’s hauled away, away to let Jordie stew in his anger by himself until it boils over.

By the time Jamie returns to the booth with Tyler in tow, Jordie is visibly calmer, though Jason has joined him at the table and their heads are tilted towards each other, deep in discussion. Jamie makes the split-second decision not to disturb them, and turns into Tyler, blocking his way back to the booth.

Tyler’s a step too slow, though; he stumbles right into Jamie’s chest, and the warmth of him is – it bleeds into him like running water. As Tyler looks up at him inquisitively, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, Jamie’s reminded of the appeal of not having anything important going on tomorrow.

“Hey,” he says, voice low. “Wanna head back?”

Something darkens in Tyler’s eyes, and he licks his lips. Jamie doesn’t even think he’s doing it consciously, doesn’t think Tyler knows doing that captivates him so much.

“Yeah,” Tyler murmurs. “Yeah, let’s – let’s get out of here.”

Jamie’s thankful that everyone is too preoccupied to notice their exit, and he finds he’s not at all embarrassed by the impulse to lace his fingers with Tyler’s for the entirety of their brief walk to their hotel room.

He spends most of the way back almost in a daze. Tyler glances over at him a few times but never says anything, and Jamie’s grateful. The silence between them feels special, somehow, like a gift he doesn’t deserve, and Jamie doesn’t know how to punctuate how nice it is except by squeezing Tyler’s hand. When Tyler squeezes back, though, he knows it’s okay.

Once they’re in their room with the door shut and locked behind them, though, a sort of urgency courses through him, and he fastens his hands onto Tyler’s hips right there in the entranceway.

There’s a pause where neither of them do anything, just gaze into each other’s eyes and god, this is everything out of a sappy romance story, but it’s the story Tyler wanted, after all. Jamie will gladly give it to him if it means having him like this.

Tyler kisses him, a simple, chaste brush of their lips, but Jamie reels him back in by the nape for more. Kissing Tyler is sweet and addictive and incredible; Jamie clings to these moments together, always left a little unsteady when they’re over, eagerly awaiting the next opportunity. It soothes him, like a ship on rough waters upon reaching respite on the shore.

Tyler is the first to pull away, and this time Jamie doesn’t follow, distracted by Tyler’s half-lidded eyes, pink cheeks, and open mouth. Then Tyler’s eyes gleam and his lips twist into something like a sneer.

“Now’s probably a good idea to tell you I brought stuff,” he says, voice gravelly.

Jamie gulps as those words send a spark straight to his crotch. “Yeah?” he asks, breathless all of a sudden.

“Yeah.”

And that – that encompasses everything, somehow.

Tyler winks, then turns away to fetch lube and a condom from his suitcase. He waves them enticingly in Jamie’s direction, wagging his eyebrows in an entirely outrageous and not at all seductive manner that’s somehow still so ridiculously hot.

Jamie stamps down on the arousal threatening to cloud his mind, because they haven’t done this yet, and it’s important they get it right. “You sure this is okay?” he asks, gesturing towards Tyler’s knee.

“Totally fine,” Tyler assures him. Jamie chews his lip, uncertain, so Tyler sighs and says, “Look, if you’re really worried about it, you can just fuck me while I’m on my back.”

Leave it to Tyler to know exactly what buttons to push to make Jamie crazy. He’s obsessed with the thought now, overcome by the image of Tyler spread out naked on the mattress, just for him.

Tyler smirks, and Jamie has a second to wonder at how obvious he’s being before Tyler’s in his space, kissing him, free hand curling around his back to steer Jamie towards the bed.

Jamie brings his hands up to Tyler’s shoulders and gently presses him down onto the mattress. Tyler gasps into his mouth before his body goes slack, completely pliable under Jamie’s touch, and the lube and condom drop next to him as Jamie lays hands on him, slides them under Tyler’s shirt as the kiss deepens.

Tyler’s making these soft, barely-there whimpering noises and Jamie’s head spins, because they haven’t even done anything yet and Tyler’s arching into Jamie like he needs this as much as the air he breathes.

His fingers keep slipping under the edges of Jamie’s shirt and Jamie takes the hint, stepping back to tug it over his head. He returns to get Tyler out of his, kissing up his chest from navel to collarbone as the skin is revealed. Tyler lifts his arms obediently as Jamie pulls the shirt off, throws it in a corner, and then his fingers come to tangle in Jamie’s hair.

Tyler’s legs are dangling off the edge of the bed and Jamie’s still standing at the foot, hunched over to access Tyler’s body, and they should probably budge up but Jamie can’t will himself to move from this spot other than to bend a knee up on to the bed to get even closer. He’s trapped on a lure, mesmerized by the expanse of skin as he runs his hands up and down Tyler’s sides, the taste of salt when he mouths at Tyler’s neck, the sparks from Tyler’s fingertips combing across Jamie’s scalp.

Jamie grazes his teeth along the juncture of Tyler’s neck and shoulder, and Tyler whines through his teeth, shivering all over. It makes Jamie want – but he’s never, not like this, never ran the risk of doing something potentially out of line, back when they were pretending.

This isn’t make-believe anymore.

Jamie bites down, Tyler moans and bucks his hips into Jamie’s, the friction igniting hot in his belly, and it’s like a dam breaks.

“Oh god, yeah, Jamie, please, _please_.”

Jamie works at the skin between his teeth, sucks a bruise there, rolls his hips against Tyler’s crotch while Tyler keens for him. He never knew he could coax such noises from Tyler, not like this, like a locked music box he’s finally found the key to. It’s just – it’s _Tyler_ , like he never knew he wanted, like he never knew he could have.

Feeling daring, he leans up to whisper in Tyler’s ear. “What do you want, Ty?”

A full-body tremor goes through Tyler and his hips grind into Jamie’s, rubbing their dicks together through their pants. Jamie nibbles on Tyler’s earlobe to keep from making noise.

“Fuck,” Tyler groans, a flush creeping down his chest. “I need you to put it in me, come on, stop teasing.”

Jamie’s dick twitches at the thought; he wants this just as much as Tyler does, and he can’t drag it out any longer, not with Tyler looking like he does.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, okay, let’s, pants off.”

He makes swift work of his pants and boxers and kicks them aside while Tyler scrambles with his own. Jamie helps him get them down past his knees, discards them with the rest of their clothes.

Tyler’s dick jumps up against his stomach, and Jamie’s seen it so many times by now, but this moment holds so much more weight. They haven’t gotten off together since their talk, and okay, that was his own fault, but this isn’t just getting off. It’s like all of their previous times together were building up to this one, and this – Jamie has to do right by Tyler here, has to show Tyler how much this means to him, how willing he is to offer anything Tyler wants.

They want the same thing now, and Jamie knows it – so he doesn’t hesitate.

He nudges Tyler up the bed and crawls in between his legs, taking the lube in hand as he does. He nuzzles Tyler’s cock once before opening his mouth at the base.

Tyler makes a wounded noise; emboldened, Jamie licks his way up the shaft while he slicks up his fingers. He slides the first finger in just as his tongue flicks across the slit, tasting a bead of precome, and Tyler lets out a startled moan.

“Yeah?” Jamie murmurs, breath ghosting over Tyler’s dick, making it twitch, as he traces slow circles within Tyler’s hole.

“Please give me more, I need more,” Tyler babbles, his eyes screwed shut. “Please, Jamie, _please_ –”

Jamie adds a second finger, and Tyler keens. It’s been long enough since Jamie’s done this for someone that he’s admittedly more cautious than he’d usually be, but he’s also never been with someone as goddamn responsive as Tyler is. Jamie would be totally down to just continue like this, two knuckles deep in Tyler’s ass, if he keeps making such beautiful sounds.

Though, considering how hard he is, throbbing with the need to get his cock in there, maybe not.

He crooks his fingers just so and Tyler clenches down around him with an honest-to-god mewl. Jamie does it again, and again, kissing up Tyler’s chest while he works. He closes his teeth lightly around one of Tyler’s nipples, holds for a moment, sucks. Tyler whines.

“God, Jamie, I need it, come on,” he pleads.

“Shh,” Jamie soothes. “Soon, I promise.”                               

Carefully, he inserts a third finger. Tyler hisses and tenses, so Jamie peppers his neck and collarbone with kisses before tilting up to capture Tyler’s mouth with his own. Tyler kisses back frantically, his body a furnace everywhere they’re touching, arching into every press of skin.

Tyler’s hips cant up and for one torturous moment, their cocks slide together and set Jamie’s nerves alight.

“Soon,” Jamie breathes into Tyler’s mouth, because every time he backs off even the slightest bit Tyler chases him, and he can’t bear to be separated either. “Almost ready for me.” He’s not exactly sure who he’s trying to reassure more right now.

Once Tyler’s relaxed around him, Jamie moves, fucking Tyler on his fingers, a slow but slick glide that speeds up as Tyler gets louder.

“Jamie, please, come on, I need you!”

It’s repetitive and familiar, somehow; Jamie is reminded, suddenly, of that time in the hotel room in Arizona, of Tyler lying back on the bed, wagging his eyebrows outrageously and making an absolute racket with his over-the-top porn star noises – and now he wonders just how exaggerated those sounds really were, wonders if Tyler was imagining Jamie doing those things to him while he did it.

Tyler’s voice cracking jolts Jamie back to reality, and maybe he’s teased for too long, because they’re both hard and leaking and every touch is like livewire. Jamie sits back and withdraws his fingers, Tyler whimpering at the loss.

Jamie fumbles for the condom and rolls it on while Tyler watches, his eyes somehow both wild and glassy at once. Pride rushes through Jamie, because that’s _his_ doing, Tyler is debauched and begging to be fucked because of _him_ , and god, is that ever heady. It’s not bros, it’s not casual, it’s not a favor. Sure, those times were enjoyable, because exchanging orgasms is always a satisfying activity, but Jamie could never let himself believe that Tyler wanted them specifically for Jamie.

Now, though – Tyler’s looking at Jamie like Jamie can save him.

He inches forward and positions himself, testing the head of his cock against Tyler’s hole.

Tyler paws uncoordinatedly at his arms, adjusting his legs so his heels nudge against the back of Jamie’s thighs, not a permission, but a request. It makes Jamie’s chest constrict and his heart swoop with something he can’t place, but he gives in, pressing forward until he’s pushing in, groaning loudly because all at once he’s enveloped in a tight heat that’s so much and not enough.

“Ty,” he grunts, on his hands and knees and trembling from the effort of keeping still, sparks shooting out from his cock to every extremity.

“Jamie,” Tyler pants, reaching up, heels digging into his thighs, palms sweeping across Jamie’s shoulders, cradling his cheeks, carding through his hair, and it burns, every touch is fire, it’s too much, he can’t handle this.

With a growl, Jamie deftly grabs Tyler’s wrists and slams them into the mattress, pinning him there. Tyler gasps, struggling for a fraction of a second before going limp, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, a sheen of sweat dotting his brow.

Jamie hovers over Tyler, frozen. His body’s screaming at him to move, just move, so much pressure, but shit, he’d done that without thinking and now Tyler’s –

“God, yeah, please,” Tyler says hoarsely.

The last fragment of restraint snaps, and Jamie does, keeping pressure on Tyler’s arms, holding him down as he moves inside him. It’s tentative at first, but his thrusts get longer and more assured with each moan Tyler lets out, with each cry that tumbles from his lips, each validation that yes, Tyler wants this, wants this from _Jamie_.

Tyler’s never been this vocal during sex before. Their hookups had been filled with bitten lips and choked-off sighs, but they were nothing like this. Even that hotel room fiasco couldn’t compare to Tyler now, incoherent with want, a steady stream of expletives escaping each time Jamie fucks into him that cuts off into cries the moment Jamie nails his prostate.

It serves as a constant reminder of what they’re doing, and what it means, and Jamie’s floored by it all, drowning in sensations and emotions and it’s just so, so good.

Tyler’s dick strains off his belly, red with neglect, precome glistening all down its length, and Jamie’s torn, torn between the impulse to stroke him until he comes and the desire to keep Tyler trapped beneath him while he gets his.

“Jamie, fuck, come on, keep going, don’t stop, please don’t,” Tyler’s whimpering, and well, that decides everything.

It builds gradually at first, heat and tension mounting as Jamie moves faster and faster, and it’s too much, it’s unbearable, it’s overwhelming, and then suddenly it crashes through him he’s coming with a long groan, pressing down on Tyler with everything he’s got as his hips stutter and his body shudders, with Tyler whining below him.

Jamie’s dreamed about sex with Tyler too many times to count – heck, he’s jacked off to the idea of sex with Tyler just as much. None of those fantasies could have ever prepared him for the real thing, for the way Tyler blushes all the way down his chest, the way every touch is electric, the way he gasps Jamie’s name like he’s the solution to all his problems. None of it could have ever predicted the fulfillment blanketing Jamie’s senses, the way he’s never felt so whole even as he’s shaking apart.

He manages to hold himself up through the aftershocks, but once they fade and the world starts making sense again, he draws back enough to slowly pull out and get rid of the condom, tying it up and tossing it in the general direction of the garbage can by the desk. He means to lean in for a kiss, but he’s struck into stillness by the way Tyler stares at him with blown pupils as though he’s utterly entranced, flushed and sweating all over, breathing heavily. Then the urge to kiss Tyler takes over and he ducks down to fit their mouths together.

Tyler opens easy for him and the kiss goes from lazy to desperate in an instant. Tyler flexes against Jamie’s wrists, moaning into Jamie’s mouth, and his hips buck up into nothing.

“Please, Jamie,” Tyler pants. “I’m so close, you gotta touch me, please let me come, _please_ –”

Jamie shushes him with a deep kiss, slotting a thigh between Tyler’s legs, but does not release Tyler’s arms. He’s oversensitive and things are already getting a little fuzzy at the edges, but he thinks this can do it.

“Go on,” he encourages. “Rub off on my thigh, come on, come for me.”

Tyler’s eyes widen and his pupils dilate even more, if that’s even possible, and he nods jerkily and grinds up against Jamie’s leg, rolling his hips and choking out gasps as he tests Jamie’s iron grip.

Jamie’d never envisioned being in a position to hold Tyler down and tell him what to do, but damn if it isn’t working for him. If he wasn’t already so spent from his own climax, he might’ve tried to go for another round. Instead, he contents himself with nipping at Tyler’s lower lip, laving his tongue against the plush, swollen skin there, while Tyler chases his orgasm.

It doesn’t take much. It’s only a few thrusts before Tyler’s eyes pinch shut, his entire body spasms and he spills hot and sticky between them. Jamie holds him through it, trailing kisses from the corner of Tyler’s open mouth down to his jaw. Then Tyler sinks into the mattress, all of the tension seeping out of him, and Jamie disengages.

There’s a beat, where Tyler’s lashes flutter and neither of them move, but then Tyler blindly reaches for Jamie, one hand landing on his shoulder and the other practically smacking him on the cheek. Jamie huffs out a chuckle as Tyler yanks him nearer, and he goes pliant until he’s settled on top of him, shifting to avoid crushing Tyler with all of his weight.

Tyler nuzzles Jamie’s face until he kisses him again. Tyler’s got his arms wrapped around Jamie, clutching him tight, hands brushing up and down Jamie’s back, a warm relief from the rapidly cooling sweat on his skin.

Jamie hadn’t realized Tyler could be so grabby after sex; until now, he’d always jerked away when they’d finished hooking up. He’d always assumed it was something Tyler didn’t want. Now, though, he’s clinging to Jamie as though he can keep him there forever, like he never wants to let go, and Jamie’s heart swells. He wants to say something, but he can’t find the words to encapsulate everything this moment means to him. Instead, he kisses Tyler some more, surrounded by warmth and peace and love.

They make out for what seems like hours, like they’ve got all the time in the world, until Jamie’s yawning into Tyler’s mouth and the come’s dried up on Tyler’s abs and Jamie’s leg, prompting them to break away.

“Oops,” Tyler says with a giggle. “Definitely gonna have to sleep in the other bed tonight.”

Jamie rolls his eyes, but he props himself up on his elbows and Tyler shuffles up the bed so that he’s resting against the headboard.

“Shower?” It’s an offer; the twinkle it Tyler’s eyes when he says it is unmistakeable.

“Sure,” Jamie replies easily. Tyler’s grin is blinding.

They shower in comfortable silence. They wipe each other down under the hot water, trailing soapy hands across wet skin, all gentle caresses that make Jamie’s heart catch up in his throat. There’s kissing, too, anywhere they can reach, their bodies pressed as close together as possible while cleaning up. They share towels while they’re drying off, the tiniest of thrills sparking through Jamie’s fingertips every time their hands touch. It’s...

Jamie’s reminded of that fragile bubble back when things were still awkward between them, only this time it’s a safe containment of this precious moment that he doesn’t think either of them wants to end. 

It changes, a little, when Jamie guides Tyler out of the bathroom with his palm against the small of Tyler’s back. Instead of moving towards his suitcase to fetch some clean clothes, Tyler turns towards the bed, stands by the night table, faces Jamie and says, “This okay?”

Jamie bursts into a smile, because it seems like the silliest worry in the world, that Jamie would mind Tyler sleeping naked. Then again, he supposes they’ve misunderstood enough of each other these past months that it’s a fair question.

“It’s more than okay.”

Tyler climbs into bed and Jamie follows, draping himself around as much of Tyler’s body as he can. Tyler burrows into his chest and Jamie pulls him in even tighter, kissing the tuft of hair at the edge of his forehead. Tyler squirms happily and plants his lips over Jamie’s neck.

“I’m glad we did that,” Jamie murmurs.

Tyler smiles against his skin. “Good. Me too.”

“Feeling okay?” He means Tyler’s knee, but everything else too.

The answer comes on a sigh. “Never felt better.”

“Good,” Jamie echoes. “Me too.”

As Jamie drifts off into the best sleep he’s had all season, he can’t help but marvel at how surreal and amazing this is, that somehow a critical lapse in judgement led him through the series of complicated and stressful events that culminated with him and Tyler together in this bed in a hotel room in Tampa, together because they both wanted it, because they both loved each other.

They haven’t said it out loud yet, but maybe they don’t need to for it to be real. Maybe the tenderness in their kisses, the crinkling in the corners of their eyes when they look at each other, the warmth of their bodies snug together under the covers – maybe that’s already enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to work in as many callbacks as possible into this chapter, because I wanted it to be as full a conclusion as possible, and I really hope they're well received. Of course, in doing so, I realized maybe I needed one more chapter in order to bring things full-circle. Good news, though: that final chapter is complete and just needs a few more edits before I can post it, which I probably won't have time to get to until the end of the week, but it's coming, I promise. 
> 
> New fic blog! I don't have much up there yet because I barely have it set up. I wanted to make it, though, cause I don't really post RPF on my main blog, I figured I should make a side blog for myself and also to promote other amazing writers. Hopefully I'll be posting fic recs there soon, and being more active there. You can find me at nuanta-fic.tumblr.com 
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for the love and comments.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here!! The last chapter, or epilogue, however you choose to call it. I can't believe it's finally over. It feels amazing to be finally posting this. This fic has been such an interesting exercise in style and tone for me, especially with Tyler's POV - I've never attempted his kind of voice before, so this was really neat, especially exploring his headspace and mannerisms when he's his usual exuberant self vs when his world is turned on its head. And as much as the previous chapter brought a good deal of closure, it was all from Jamie's end, and I felt kind of cheated that I didn't resolve things on Tyler's side as well. So I wrote this little piece, and now I think we've officially come full-circle. 
> 
> Small amount of canon divergence in this chapter - Jamie does not require offseason hip surgery, so he's able to play in the Worlds. :D

 

_over and over and over again_

~

[Three Months Later]

Tyler’s summer after the Stars miss the playoffs is already looking pretty fucking baller, if he says so himself.

Okay, so missing the playoffs sucks ass, and it’s a shame Jamie still insists on shouldering most of the blame, but hey, they ended on a good note, and Jamie won the freaking Art Ross. It gave the fans and players a glimpse of what’s to come, hope for the next season, insert whatever underdog comeback narratives the media comes up with here. So really, it’s not that bad.

Especially not when he’s just won the World Cup for Canada, all the way in freaking Prague, with Sidney motherfucking Crosby pouring beer down his throat directly out of the trophy, high on life and adrenaline.

Jamie films it for him, because damn straight Tyler is posting that to his Facebook, and once they’re done he gives Sid a good clap on the shoulder and hustles over to Jamie, crowding his space to see the footage, and also because Jamie’s body is broad and radiating heat and, well, the best.

“Perfect!” Tyler declares, taking his phone back. Jamie’s looking at him with those adorable cow eyes and that giant goofy smile he saves for when he’s happiest, the big dork, and his lips are wet and shiny with beer too and Tyler doesn’t know if he’d rather Jamie kiss him or blow him with that mouth. Both, honestly. Definitely both.

“Can you not?” Eaks complains loudly, and Jamie’s blushing to the tips of his ears, and oops. Tyler must’ve said that out loud. His brain-to-mouth filter isn’t really working right now, and he isn’t even drunk yet. Hmm. That needs to be fixed, pronto. He buries his face into Jamie’s jersey, Jamie’s arms instinctively coming around him, and Tyler sighs contentedly. Jamie’s gotten loads better at the being in public thing, and it’s a freaking godsend.

“Don’t make me put you lovebirds in timeout,” Spezz warns from across the room. “I came here to win gold, not to play team dad.”

“And we did!” Nate crows, while a few guys whoop in agreement.

Tyler lifts his head enough to holler, “Damn right we did!” but then Jamie winces and Tyler instantly covers Jamie’s ears, horrified that he just screamed right up in his space. “Shit, sorry,” he says, eyes wide, and Jamie’s face softens.

Then Jamie’s mouth twists. “You gonna make it up to me?” he asks, the corners of his eyes doing that ridiculous crinkling thing.

Tyler snorts. “Dude, you’re looking at the tournament’s leading goal-scorer,” he says. “This calls for either the blowjob of a lifetime, or you fucking me into the mattress so hard I can’t walk the next day.” Or whatever else Jamie comes up with. Tyler’s not picky.

Spezz’s exasperated sigh echoes through the locker room, and Tyler giggles. “I swear to god, guys, save it for the bedroom!”

Jamie pulls away, sheepish, and Tyler curls in on himself a little, missing the warmth already. Jamie notices, and gently runs a hand through Tyler’s hair, lowers it and caresses his cheek. Tyler tilts his head into it with a satisfied hum.

“We’ll do whatever you want later,” Jamie promises softly as he withdraws.

Tyler smirks. “You’re so easy,” he snickers. Seriously. Dude almost never asks for things, just lets Tyler tell him what he wants, and Jamie will give it to him in a heartbeat. It’s a sweet deal, truth be told.

“So’re you,” Jamie retorts, and yeah, Tyler’s pretty fucking easy for Jamie. He beams.

“You guys are too cute,” Sid says, appearing next to them.

Jamie startles, flushes and ducks his head, while Tyler’s grin broadens.

“Yeah, we are,” he says proudly.

“Tyler,” Jamie hisses.

“No, it’s fine,” Sid says earnestly. “It’s really nice to see. That you guys can be so happy and open, and it’s okay.”

Tyler knows what Sid means, but this is a happy moment, god damn it, and he’s not about to spoil it with the deep conversation of what it’s like being out in the NHL, even if things have been stellar as of late. Like, can’t argue with the whole winning-the-worlds-on-a-line-with-your-boyfriend storyline.

“Course it’s okay,” Tyler settles for, surveying the room. Nate’s dancing in the corner with Taylor and Jordan, while Aaron’s getting his turn to drink from the cup with Claude on pouring duty. They’re all too preoccupied now to tease, but that’s totally fine. “The guys are dicks about it, but like, good dicks.” Next to him, he hears Jamie groan. Maybe not the most appropriate choice of words there, but what the fuck ever, it gets the point across.

Sid glances around the locker room briefly, and his voice drops. “Well, thanks to you guys, I think I’m finally ready.”

Jamie’s head snaps up, and Tyler blinks, because are they witnessing a motherfucking revelation here?

“Wait,” Tyler says. “You’re –”

“Gay,” Sid admits with a small nod. “My agent knows, PR knows, and now you guys. The announcement’s gonna happen soon.”

Jamie’s eyes are round as coins, and Tyler can’t seem to keep his mouth from hanging open. It’s not – it makes _sense_ , when he thinks about it, cause all this time no one’s known a fucking thing about Sid’s private life, never seen him on a date with a girl, ever, he’s always shied away from the topic, and this. This is why. It all fits.

“You guys proved that it’s okay to be out in the NHL,” Sid continues. “Your careers didn’t end. But it’s still not completely safe for everyone to follow suit. Someone has to follow you up, open the floodgates. I can do that. I want to help make a difference for everyone who comes after. That’s what a leader’s supposed to do.”

Jamie still looks a little like a deer in a headlights, but Tyler feels warm and giddy all over and he’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“Captain Canada, what a hero!” he exclaims, holding his hand for a high-five and gathering Sid in for a bro-hug when he obliges.

Jamie rolls his eyes, but he finally smiles too.

“Let us know, if you need anything, if there’s anything we can do,” he says seriously, and Tyler’s so gone over how much of a sweetheart Jamie is, how he’s nothing short of Tyler’s favorite person in the world.

Sid grins at the both of them. “I will,” he promises. “Keep an eye out on the news in the next week or so.” Then he returns his attention to the cup, which has become the subject of many photo ops.

Tyler follows Jamie’s gaze as he watches Sid’s back, but then he looks back again and gets distracted by long line of Jamie’s throat. He kind of wants to bite it. Kind of wants a lot of things – bedroom things. Kind of still wants to go out and party with the guys and get drunk. Kind of can’t believe the greatest player in the world is going to follow _their_ lead.

He blinks when Jamie slots an arm around his waist. “I’m almost kind of sad we’re gonna still be in Europe when the news breaks,” Jamie comments.

Tyler elbows him lightly in the ribs. “Really?” he asks incredulously. “Mister I-Hate-The-Media wants to be around to answer questions when the next player comes out?”

Jamie shrugs, staring ahead. “I guess, if we were supporting someone else, it wouldn’t be so bad,” he says.

Tyler can only shake his head, because Jamie really is something else. “Dude, you’ve changed.”

Jamie looks at him pointedly. “So have you.”

Okay, point taken.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad we’ve got another two weeks in Europe,” Tyler declares.

Jamie’s eyebrows go way up. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

Tyler waits until Jamie’s making eye contact, and then he shoots him a sly grin. “Tonight we’ve gotta celly with the guys, but then we’ve got two whole weeks for you to reward me for all my goals,” he says.

Jamie removes his hand from Tyler’s waist to ruffle his hair, and Tyler squirms. “You’re terrible.”

“Downright awful,” Tyler agrees amiably.

“No clue why I put up with you.”

“You love me too much,” Tyler blurts, before he can stop himself.

But Jamie just nods and says, “Yeah, I do,” with that _look_ in his eyes, and Tyler gets the damn butterflies, heart caught in his throat. He’s really got no other choice but to kiss Jamie right then and there, catcalling be damned.

Yeah, things are looking pretty swell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this fic as a gift. The premise was a present for a friend, and then I realized that I couldn’t leave it at that, couldn’t not write it for them. So I wrote, worked out some kinks, wrote some more. At some point during the writing process, I learned some hard life lessons as well: people fall out of love with things. They get over shit. I’ve always been slower than most at doing that. So then I had to find a new reason to keep writing, to keep this story going, because it just wouldn’t have been fair to myself to stop after I’d already put so much effort into it, after I’d worked so tirelessly and grown as a writer – that’s been so important to me. I wanted to finish this, even if I’d lost my reason. But, with every kudos and comment I received, I found a new one. Honestly, you guys mean the world to me, because you’ve proven that my voice can still have some impact, somewhere in a tiny piece of this massive universe we live in, and that I am not completely obsolete. So thank you. Thank you for sticking with me, thank you for the love, thank you for being my motivation when I lost my inspiration, thank you for actually reading this ridiculously sappy paragraph. <3
> 
> You can find me, chat with me, prompt me, whatever you like, at my new fic blog: nuanta-fic.tumblr.com


End file.
